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By Jane Doe Date: 2009 Aug 05 Comment on this Work [[2009.08.05.10.03.24269]] |
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decision we have to make. Sophie and I. She has school tomorrow. A book review on Tight Times on Friday. First major high school exams two weeks from now. I know I have duties as a member of Philippine history. Nevertheless, I have duties as a mother, too. Sophie and I, we decided to stay home. That part of history, that was a crucial part of my life as person. Some things, certain things have to take second priority. As a mother, I can teach history, of love of country, of universal truths within the confines of our humble abode while we did Filipino, Computer and English. She wasn’t feeling too well, and Mom was too broken for reasons too personal. It was all over Philippine television. Daughter and I had to take it from there … over major review sessions and an important book analysis. Massive, nose bleeding discussions about history. For a period in time she never witnessed. An episode I never anticipated. I was 15 … and it was happening … I never knew I was gonna have her … and a time like this, we both gonna caught up with. And she would have questions, I needed to answer. Is that fair? Was I fair? “We hardly talk about her in school, Mom. I don’t get it. How she got into this democracy stuff.” (So I silently blame the rotting educational system, the failure to present all sides. Good and bad. The stigma of strong women.) So my answers. “Child, I was a generation of dreams.We were kids just like what you are now … and your classmates, Galileo class … and schoolmates, a privileged Montessori batch … and playmates, within a peaceful, middle class neighborhood. Lest I forget, the generation before us. That one that lack freedom, that rule of military, those times of Desaparecidos, Martial rule. I remember my youngest Tita doing all the grafitti in her room but never outside. My mother, a teacher, resisting an abuse she had no power over. That part of history I will never understand. Because I was never a part of. Until our own personal struggles. I tell you, we were children of dreams. I was 15, and in senior high. There was National Press Conference all student writers wanted to be part of. I was trying to get to a university. I so wanted to leave a city with a reputation. I wanted to get that chance. A month before graduation. We got a revolution. We thought that was unfair. Will we ever get to compete at the National Conference? Will I ever be allowed to get to the State University? How about the graduation party? Will we ever get to walk that stage and collect all those medals? It was too personal. Too selfish of us.” Nathan and I. SMS. “Nat, how come its hurts, to lose something, someone when we only thought of were ourselves at that time. And our dreams. When there were loftier dreams. Dreams beyond ours. We all jusz wanted the National PressCon. And all the medals from high school. And a university education. So miniscule. As compared to ... Press freedom. National identity. Democracy. We were selfish high schoolers, lets accept that now when we are in midlife crisis. Sophie is growing up such a privileged, spoiled kid. I have to teach her that. She missed me what God gave us. That part of history … We were too ambitious to appreciate Cory." (am sorry Lord, we were too selfish. forgive us .) |