Godmother
One thing that I haven't mentioned in my childhood memoirs is my godmother. I used to spend week ends with her at her house when she used to live within the village. She would pick me up from nursery school near the park and she would cook me dinner when we got to her cottage-like home.
It was an arrangement that was made between her and my parents that I stay with her during week ends. She lived alone, left by a cheating husband who got someone else pregnant and took off with his mistress. I can still remember that morning when I woke up and got out of my room. I was about 4 or 5 years old. I saw my parents and my young godmother in a serious conversation over breakfast. They all looked at me startled. My godmother's eyes were glistening and red from crying but I didn't say anything because of fear to speak up. She used to smile everytime she would see me. But that morning, all she could do was reach her hand out to me and kissed my head. I was afraid that I might say something wrong.
And so I spent week ends with her to keep her company. I was her daughter for the week end. Due to her broken heart, she would bury herself with work even on week ends. She brought me to her office several times. She'd keep me busy with eating Flat Tops, Haw Flakes, or Nestle Crunch and a puzzle games.
I can't remember every single day I spent with her but I do remember that she would cook me crispy bacons or corned beef for breakfast, and also oatmeal if I wanted something sweet in the morning. I remember the scent of cologne she would sprinkle me with after taking a bath. It was Jean Nate. After that, we would watch late night tv and munch down a big bag of chips. Every Sunday, we would go to mass early in the morning and buy puto and kuchinta for my parents afterwards. She'd also spend time at our house on Sundays. Sometimes, we would take a walk around the park in the afternoon.
That was one big part of my childhood that I trully missed. Evertime my aunt would have e\her rare visits in the Philippines, I'd cry everytime the day would come that she'll be leaving again. I know that I won't be seeing her for a long time. The last visit she did was when my father was diagnosed for cancer. She took time to take care of him in the hospital before she left. It was a really stressful time for me because I know that things are really taking a different turn. My dad won't be able to bring her to the airport like before. That time I cried because she was leaving and because my dad won't be able to bring her to the airport like he used to.
In those shadowy years, I keep on wondering if she ever thought of me and how I must be doing with the sudden turn of events. For a time, I was hiding my jealousy of the other kids of her friends who get to be with her in the US. But after some time, I realized how lonely she must've felt living alone in L.A. I thought that I would've reached out my hospitality to my friends' children just the same because they are like the only family I could call on in the US.
After 10 years, she came home again and this time with my other aunts all over the world. I really took time to observe my aunts and get to know them more. I spent week ends at the hotel and shared the room with my godmother. My aunt smiled at me and said, "Mabel, you get to share the master's bedroom with me. It will be just like old times." I felt like I was 4 years old again and she just picked me up from nursery school on a Friday afternoon. When the day came that she'll fly back to the US, I had to control my tears from falling. This time, it was her who's gonna watch me walk out the door. It was a Monday and I had to go to work. Her flight was scheduled at 10pm that night and she'll be checking out in the afternoon. I hugged her tightly because I don't know when will be the next time I'll get to see her. Then she told me, "Don't cry on me now. I'll be back next year. Maybe we can go to the Boracay." I beamed and nodded silently. I can't let my tears get the best of me. "Let it out when you get to the taxi." was all I could tell myself to control my tears. I thought I made a really good show of bravery. My Godmother called me on my cellphone while I was in the taxi and just asked me if I know of any derm clinic. Our conversation sounded like she never left the country. After we ended our conversation, that's when the tears started to fall.
It was an arrangement that was made between her and my parents that I stay with her during week ends. She lived alone, left by a cheating husband who got someone else pregnant and took off with his mistress. I can still remember that morning when I woke up and got out of my room. I was about 4 or 5 years old. I saw my parents and my young godmother in a serious conversation over breakfast. They all looked at me startled. My godmother's eyes were glistening and red from crying but I didn't say anything because of fear to speak up. She used to smile everytime she would see me. But that morning, all she could do was reach her hand out to me and kissed my head. I was afraid that I might say something wrong.
And so I spent week ends with her to keep her company. I was her daughter for the week end. Due to her broken heart, she would bury herself with work even on week ends. She brought me to her office several times. She'd keep me busy with eating Flat Tops, Haw Flakes, or Nestle Crunch and a puzzle games.
I can't remember every single day I spent with her but I do remember that she would cook me crispy bacons or corned beef for breakfast, and also oatmeal if I wanted something sweet in the morning. I remember the scent of cologne she would sprinkle me with after taking a bath. It was Jean Nate. After that, we would watch late night tv and munch down a big bag of chips. Every Sunday, we would go to mass early in the morning and buy puto and kuchinta for my parents afterwards. She'd also spend time at our house on Sundays. Sometimes, we would take a walk around the park in the afternoon.
That was one big part of my childhood that I trully missed. Evertime my aunt would have e\her rare visits in the Philippines, I'd cry everytime the day would come that she'll be leaving again. I know that I won't be seeing her for a long time. The last visit she did was when my father was diagnosed for cancer. She took time to take care of him in the hospital before she left. It was a really stressful time for me because I know that things are really taking a different turn. My dad won't be able to bring her to the airport like before. That time I cried because she was leaving and because my dad won't be able to bring her to the airport like he used to.
In those shadowy years, I keep on wondering if she ever thought of me and how I must be doing with the sudden turn of events. For a time, I was hiding my jealousy of the other kids of her friends who get to be with her in the US. But after some time, I realized how lonely she must've felt living alone in L.A. I thought that I would've reached out my hospitality to my friends' children just the same because they are like the only family I could call on in the US.
After 10 years, she came home again and this time with my other aunts all over the world. I really took time to observe my aunts and get to know them more. I spent week ends at the hotel and shared the room with my godmother. My aunt smiled at me and said, "Mabel, you get to share the master's bedroom with me. It will be just like old times." I felt like I was 4 years old again and she just picked me up from nursery school on a Friday afternoon. When the day came that she'll fly back to the US, I had to control my tears from falling. This time, it was her who's gonna watch me walk out the door. It was a Monday and I had to go to work. Her flight was scheduled at 10pm that night and she'll be checking out in the afternoon. I hugged her tightly because I don't know when will be the next time I'll get to see her. Then she told me, "Don't cry on me now. I'll be back next year. Maybe we can go to the Boracay." I beamed and nodded silently. I can't let my tears get the best of me. "Let it out when you get to the taxi." was all I could tell myself to control my tears. I thought I made a really good show of bravery. My Godmother called me on my cellphone while I was in the taxi and just asked me if I know of any derm clinic. Our conversation sounded like she never left the country. After we ended our conversation, that's when the tears started to fall.
posted by Summer at
5:01 AM
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