Through Misty Eyes

While I'm writing this, my eyes are getting more watery. I blame it all on two things: first, on a tube of Maybelline mascara which does wonders for eyelashes but are more horrific than "Night of the Living Dead" when it comes to taking the gunk off and second, the soap I used to get it out of my lashes.

My cousin Loida got married today. I waited for that point in the wedding service when Pastor Luces announced that Loida and her now-husband George were officially married before I changed I hyphenated her husband's last name on her contact entry in my phone. Whew! After 11 whole years of being an item, they were finally married.

Nene Loida and I along with our cousin Candy made up a trio of girls when were children. Maybe it was because they were the closest to me in terms of age difference and I really thought it would be cooler to hang out with my older cousins then instead of the young ones who I loved to call "the kids." I spent summer after summer with them. We'd take turns sleeping over in each other's homes and do the craziest things. We would paint our toenails or put make-up on each other's faces and see who'd make the best looking witch. We'd go out into the ricefields or go trekking somewhere in our slippers and then get scolded for not getting back in time for lunch. We'd try to stay up as late as we can just so we can experience what it's like to have a midnight snack - like drinking Sprite from an ice cream cone. We also spent one night putting a mole just above our upper lips like Madonna until we realized it was more fun to put additional moles or birthmarks all over our bodies with red pentel pen. I still snicker when I recall the sheer panic in Loida's mother's face when we emerged from her room in the morning to have breakfast because she seriously thought the three of us had chickenpox.

Nene Loida was the first one to have a boyfriend but Candy beat her to getting hitched. Now Candy has two children and when Loida finally told me she was getting married herself, I could only say "Finally."

Nene Loida asked me to sing during her wedding. Of course I said yes even if inside I wanted to say "no." The last time I sang for her was during her 18th birthday and in the middle of the song I broke down and started crying. I seldom cry in public and I certainly did not want to do that again. So this afternoon, when I walked up to the podium to sing "Two Words" for Loida and Manong George, I did not really dig deep into the lyrics and stuck my tongue out at the two of them in between verses lest my eyes start dripping again. I got through the song with neither the slighest quivering in my vocal chords nor the thinnest mistiness in one's eyes.

Of course if I end with that, I'd be lying. Because the truth is, the minute I saw her walking down the aisle in my grandmother's white dress and her long veil, my tear ducts started going hyper. I was standing next to my cousin Aiyi who could only say "Hala!" when the teardrops started to get seemingly inevitable. I blinked them back as best as I could as I thought of how long I labored over my eye makeup.

Even if I did manage to stop myself from morphing into an uncontrollable faucet, I did wish Nene Loida a life of happiness and contentment through misty eyes which had almost remained unnoticed.

The childhood girl trio with Manang Gracious
and two of the former "kids"

Me-and-Me

May 1, 7 AM.
Boracay Island, Malay, Aklan

I toss my empty cup of hot chocolate into the trash bin, still bewildered that a Starbucks branch now stands proudly along the seashore of what is touted as one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. I always thought the tourism council of Malay was considering a more rustic feel but with the coffee shop proudly showing off its dark green signage along with a Shakey's branch somewhere in Station 2, I was getting the idea that the more natural look was maybe abandoned.

I had gotten up early and judging from Ate Carol and Iting's steady breathing, none of them were about to depart from Slumberland anytime. I quietly changed in the bathroom and locked the room upon leaving. The morning was slightly chilly so I slipped into my coat and realized there was a tiny hole near the right sleeve. Drat!

It had been a long time since I've had a "date" with myself and on that morning, I went on a long walk. I was also trying to rid myself of the guilt from licking my plate of quesadillas clean the night before when I should be on a diet. I had taken off my slippers and the feel of the wet, soft sand and the cool water between my toes was almost magical. I passed by a number of local kids doing cartwheels on the wet sand, their toasted bodies reminiscent of jumping white dots on a piece of white paper. Further on, I walked by two kids racing their Hot Wheels trucks by the seashore. Upon closer inspection, I realized that each truck carried a rather unwilling passenger - a black and white rodent which was frantically trying to get off the moving toy. I walked past Willy's Rock and Jona's Fruit Shakes. The people began to thin as I reached Boracay Terraces. I then turned around and walked back to my point of origin. Upon reaching D' Mall, I walked back towards Boracay Terraces again when I realized the sun had reared its warm head in the midst of the clouds.

I finally walked back to the place where we were staying and reached a row of plastic benches arranged right in front of our resort. None of my companions - Iting, Ate Carol, Ross or Kuya Stan - were anywhere in sight. I figured they might still be enjoying the company of the covers a bit too much. Oh well, that was fine with me.

My feet were still a bit warm from the long walk so I sat on one of the plastic benches positioned strategically under a beach umbrella, took out my Bible and began to read. The passage was about Jesus' encounter with his disciples while they were fishing. This was my favorite post-resurrection story. The disciples had been fishing all night long and they had caught nothing. In the morning, Jesus saw them and told them to cast their nets on the other side of their boat and to their shock, their nets were filled with so many fish that the ropes of the net began to fray.

At that moment, I heard a loud series of "thuds." I looked up from what I was reading and saw that the morning dragon boat race had just started. The wind and the waves had been treacherous ever since we arrived in Boracay and the sky was constantly overcast. The rowers were definitely taking a serious beating as they plunged their oars into the water and drew them back with all their might. The guy up front who was the equivalent of the coxswain in a rowing team was beating his drum steadily. With every stroke, it seemed like the dragon boat and its rowers could be washed ashore but none of them were.

There were about four boats clustered right before me. From the corner of my eye, I spotted one dragon boat which was speeding ahead of the cluster. I figured this boat was be powered my super rowers with arms made of metal or something. As the dragonboats in the cluster desperately tried to catch up, the leader of the pack simply continued to pull ahead and emerge as the runaway winner.

A person can rely so much on his own strength, on his muscle power, on his intelligence. Somehow the assumption is that such strength, power or intelligence is like the fuel which gives rockets that thrust and sends them into the outer realms of space. People can rely on that with absolute dependence that they are left at a loss when such strength fails, especially in times when they are desperately needed. Going back to the rowers, they may have practiced and strengthened their arms but what happens when the situation they are plunged in is far from the ideal, different from what they expected? What happens when their own strength fails them and the heart and muscle fall prey to vulnerability and discouragement?

The years have taught me never to depend on my own set of strengths and abilities. My knees have buckled, my mind has shut down, my strength has been seeped to the point of emptiness. I've slept many nights and such sleep has done nothing to relieve me of the intense weariness which has invaded every corner of my body like a vine. I had grasped at some things and squeezed with all my might only to find them unchanged and my own hands slashed like ribbons. I have reached down deep inside me to pluck up whatever strength I had left and came up wanting.

God picks up where I leave off. It's all a matter of laying everything down at His feet and claiming the promise that I will not be left alone nor forsaken. Indeed He makes up for everything when my strength comes short, when I have done all I can and everything seems to amount to nothing. He has proven Himself to be faithful and true as my Sustainer in so many circumstances I have completely lost count.

I closed my Bible and sat alone for another couple of minutes, breathing in the sight of the sea and the waves crashing into the shore. I knew that at that point in time, I was nowhere near the shore. In one way or another, it was more like I was somewhere in the middle of nowhere, bobbing with the waves like a cork and I know that no matter how much I flail my arms or pull myself toward the shore, there was absolutely no guarantee that, on my own, I could bring myself to shallow water.

A little while later, I turned around to see Ate Carol greeting me good morning. It looked like she had a good night's rest and she volunteered to take a picture of me sitting on the bench. I was glad to have some company again and my me-and-me time had finally come to an end. Actually on second thought, as I went for my long walk on that beach, I did not really have a me-and-me time to begin with.