Monthly Archives: July 2013

Everybody’s son


It was supposed to be a good day. The sun was shining, we were all laughing, then it happened. You ran, slipped, fell on the floor. When you got up, there was already a little bit of blood on your face. A certain portion of your chin was cut open. I immediately panicked while you just stood there, clueless or, maybe, in shock of what just happened. It’s funny how you were the one telling me to calm down and call Mommy Jenny. I think you were only 6 years old then; I was 16. I guess age doesn’t always tell who’s the grown up.

It’s hard for you, isn’t it? Moving schools, staying in different places, and having a lot of “moms.” You didn’t even get to meet your real dad. Everyone in the family calls you their son but your real mom wasn’t around until now. That’s why I try my best to understand you, even if you can be a little prick sometimes. I just hope you don’t let resentment or whatever negative feeling grow in your heart. It may not be the greatest but we’re trying our best to raise you to be the best person you can be. I hope you know that Ate day, Kuya Adrianne, Mommy Lalai, and Dada Laido are always, always here for you. Just don’t test our patience.

Happy birthday Ken! I miss you. You’re like a real brother to me. Good luck!


Nine years old, summer


Mornings start off slow, writing lists
Of Tamblot Street, Doctor dan, and that little bitch who used to throw tantrums.
My cousins hated me.

The radio starts to play Michael Learns to Rock
and there I go thinking about my pile of unread books.

But it’s the afternoon that was always the best,
commuting, riding jeepneys,
getting lost somewhere,
wishing it was that easy for my family to come visit.

Such were the quiet days in the summer.

It’s been a long time since I went to a writing workshop and wrote poetry. This was what I came up with after the final exercise. It’s not that much but maybe I can still improve it. Good thing I didn’t get called to read it out loud.