Baskadia

MEMORIES

I lowered myself into my chair as I pressed my pen shakily on the 5th page of my diary. It is true when they say that memories last a lifetime and hunt us forever. There were so many uncertainties going through my mind but if I was ever going to let go, I have to tell this story.

The weather was mild and cold. I could feel the breeze as it rippled through my new school uniforms. I was only 12 but I could pass for a 10-year-old. It looked like it would rain anytime soon. As I walked my way back home from school, I stopped facing this old car packed somewhere in the neighborhood. The car looked dusty. Every child in the neighborhood had something written on the body of this dusty car. Some even call it, "The wish-granting car."

Today, I found myself walking toward the car. Maybe, it can grant my wishes too. "One day, I'll have everything I ever prayed for but for now, I'll be thankful for the life that I'm living." I don't know why I was writing that but I wrote it anyway. I looked at my now dirty fingertips and hissed slowly. "Trenches."

Almost immediately, I felt something warm drop on my lower arm from the sky. I knew what it was, the birds had done it again. In sheer frustration, I looked up to the sky. Then, all my anger sank as my eyes flickered in pain. The cloud had formed a picture, it looked like a baby being carried up by the baby's father. There was this smile on the baby's face that touched the corners of the baby's eyes. The baby was drooling.

"Daddy, Daddy!" The half-cheerful voice first caught my attention before I turned fully to look at the child as she ran past me to hide behind her father. She pointed at her friends approaching, they were the same age as her. Perhaps she was telling on them. She had her father standing as a pillar, protecting her. Even if she was wrong, her friends don't stand a chance to hit her.

Right there and then, my mind drifted back to memories I'd chosen to forget.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" My dad popped the question. "A lawyer," I replied. Then I was only seven. Although I chose law but that was not what I loved, I chose law the day I overheard my dad telling my mom that he would love for one of his children to be a lawyer. Now my dad wasn't the type to force his child into any profession. Although I was young and ignorant yet my dad supported me. There was this smile that was plastered all over his face that day and that somehow gave me some kind of satisfaction. Subconsciously, I'd say "Objection my Lord" in every conversation I had with my siblings and friends.

But as days bled into years, I found myself loving something else. I was all over football. I'll defend Cristiano Ronaldo whenever and try to play like him. He was my muse. Maybe my change in profession broke my father's heart or maybe not. I was too young to notice.

Regardless, my dad supported me. My mom on the other hand played the typical 'you are a girl' card on me. I took football training and played with the boys in the neighborhood. Dad made sure I was okay, he got me my first football which turned out to be my last football. He was my fan and support system. I remembered the time he'd sing for me on my birthday, he would always sing off the key. I would playfully ask him to stop singing. I mean, not everyone should sing. I also remembered the times when he'd sneak into my room at night just to give me the snack he bought from work.

And finally, my mind took me to the darkest place, the one that I never wanted to think of, the one that I'd left locked for years. I still remembered how my father struggled to breathe and talk on his sick bed. That day I cried and begged him to sing me a birthday song. I badly wanted to hear him sing. I could still remember the screams of my mother when the doctor broke the news to her. I had never seen my mom that way before. Sometimes I'd stop and ask myself if that's what love is about. The pains that come with it when the one person that means the world to you, says goodbye.

As these memories came flashing by, I could feel the lump building up in my throat. I was choking, I felt my heart go tight in my chest. Each time I try to swallow my saliva, it hurts me. I'd blink so my tears didn't shimmer. "Hey! Get away from the rain." Someone said from behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I hugged myself quickly as the cold breeze hit me. Only then did I hear the 'pitter-patter' sound as the rain splattered on each zinc. I parted my lips slightly, taking in as deep a breath as I can manage. Finally, I could feel the warm tears trace their way down my cheek. Thanks to the rain, no one would notice.

Tomorrow, I'd return to the wish-granting car and write that my father comes back. At least to watch me play one last time before I quit to become the perfect girl my mom wants me to be.

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