92

My lola turned 92 last Monday. 92. Wow. I will not hope nor dream that I would ever reach such a ripe age. Unlike my grandmother, my lifestyle is much more, let's say, liberated. And yet, I wonder... "What would it be like to live the kind of life she lived? Would I be happier?"

I would certainly be healthier. Haha.

I imagine how uptight and conservative her life has been. I recall how she would tell me that when she was young, the only time people saw her was when they went to church. His lolo, Don Gil, would pick them up in his karwahe (yes, an actual carriage complete with a horseman) and that's when they get to go out. Everyday, at 4pm, they would open their windows and watch the world outside. Wave at passersby perhaps, and maybe even look down upon suitors. This account alone is proof enough of how different the way things were before.

My lola turned out to be a very strong woman despite the rather "demure" way of life she got used to. In so many ways I am like her and yet in so many more ways I know I am not. My life is far more complicated than hers was, yet I know she went through her own obstacles and fought her own battles. If I were to have lived in the era she lived through, I would most probably turn out not far from the way she did.

But I am of this generation. One that is a hundredfold harder to live through than theirs was. Perhaps, I am in no position to complain. Many of us complicate our lives unnecessarily, our ambitions are higher and our contentment is harder to reach.

I am now 21. Far from old. Far from wise. I am almost sure I wouldn't live to be 92. But I hope I will do my lola's heritage justice in my own way while I am alive.

summer places

I used to be fascinated by swimming pools, ponds, fountains, miniature waterfalls in people's gardens... I have no idea why but I'd just be amazed by them. I won't even attempt to find any psychological reason for it for fear of ruining the feeling that it gives me when I remember a time when such things make me wide-eyed with wonder.

Like the empty swimming pool at my neighbor's backyard. I remember staring at it, fantasizing how it would look if it were full. Or the pond at a family friend's front lawn. I used to sit by it and look into all of its three-foot depth and the lonely fishes swimming in it. Even now, when I think of it, I can still feel some of the awe that I felt.

It sounds crazy now that I'm a grown woman, but I wish I could get that back. That innocence--or perhaps ignorance-- that comes with being a child. To look at things and see them more vividly and vibrantly. To experience something and be struck with the same excitement as I had.

Nowadays I sit at my lola's terrace, look at the backyard that seemed huge to me before... Milk replaced by coffee and blowing bubbles replaced by a cigarette... I can't help but wish time and age hadn't jaded me. Have I gotten that old? I certainly feel old. I sit back and remember a time when little things gave me great wonders and made summer seem so much more like an adventure... Sigh.