Green
star. I chose a green paper star though it doesn’t really look that
attractive. My mother told me to write
my wish for Christmas at the back of the star so that some magical angels of
Jesus will make it come true. When we went
to mass, my eyes lingered upon a huge Christmas tree made up of paper stars
with a variety of colors. My mom said
one of those is mine. I spent the whole
period of the mass guessing which of those is my star.
The memories were still clear as they used to be and I
can still feel the horrible pain engulfed in my knees when I was tortured to
kneel on a floor of salt and mongo seeds.
It was a punishment for breaking the star that was supposed to be the
crowning glory of our Christmas tree that year.
Let me explain it.
My mother was in the laundry room that time washing our clothes. I
and my little sister stole some chocolates from the refrigerator and we decided
to escape from the eyes of the tiger by eating at the porch. Now our porch that time was a devastating
scene of Christmas decorations scattered everywhere. My tongue was about to capture the sweetest
stolen taste when I saw a bullfrog leaping towards me. The excitement of tasting the chocolates was
overshadowed by the fear of the leaping creature. My poor feet ran in all directions until it
stepped onto something hard, something precious- I thought I was dead that
time. I never told my mother of what
happened. She never knew that it was the
frog’s fault. She wouldn’t care anyway.
You’d be surprised to know that the frog’s name was
Dolly. My sister named her after the
first cloned sheep and until now, it didn’t make sense at all to me. She thought the frog was her friend while I
considered it a beast. We always have a
fight about that. It’s quite absurd when you picture it out. More often than not, my sister will end the
argument by reiterating lessons she know we both knew from our Christian Living
and Values Education class.
I consider myself fortunate for having been sent in a
private sectarian school where I first experienced being shouted by a teacher
because I forgot to make the Sign of the Cross before reciting “The Lord’s
Prayer”. My juvenile mind would always
look forward every first Friday of the month when we’re obliged to the mass and
holidays of obligation when no classes were conducted. Students in our school were automatically
considered as part of the elite class. Only few were privileged to enroll in
the school. When I asked our maid why
her son wasn’t enrolled in the same school as I, she reasoned out that they’re
poor. “And we’re not?” asked. She said we’re rich and I love it. So, I spent my childhood thinking that we’re
rich.
The jeepney to school would pass by a beautiful scene of
the sea kissing the sky. It would always
leave me admiring the beauty the world has to offer. I was feasting my eyes upon the usual
panorama unfolding before me when I suddenly bumped into the person beside
me. I dread that road repair project because
it made the vehicle experience rude bumps.
Actually, I didn’t understand why that path had to be repaired when it
wasn’t ruined in the first place. I saw
a big picture of two people beside the road that was under construction. I recognized both of them. They once visited our house during the town
fiesta.
I couldn’t describe how busy my mother was when those two
persons in the picture confirmed that they will pay us a visit. She hung curtains I saw for the first
time. The table cloth was at its best
color. These two men entered the house
with two or three men in sunglasses and pistols following them. I heard phrases like congressman and governor
so I assumed that they held the position.
I was surprised how our maid managed to give them a wide grin while
serving them a glass of soft drinks when I though she doesn't like them at all.
By the way, I haven’t told you I curse but never at home
unless if I want to kneel in another set of salt and mongo seeds. A classmate in High school asked me if what’s
wrong with cursing. I told her I don’t
know. Nevertheless, she curses more than
I do. She once cursed a guy who would
first touch my lips in two years time.
Did I tell you that the chocolates we sneaked from the
refrigerator bore the sweetest stolen taste? Now, I was wrong.
The darkness of the night penetrated the starless skies
when the whispers of two timid souls filled the cold breeze. After a while I found my anxious lips sharing
a moment of teenage sweetness. I have to
tell you it was worth more than all the stolen chocolates in the world.
The world grew with me and the blazing flames of reality
conquered my mind every now and then.
Mom told me I was still young.
She told me I had gone insane.
Her sharp words pierced through me. I don’t understand why I cried upon
hearing what she said. How I wish she
would just let me kneel on another set of salt and mongo seeds. With my confused views and principles, the
world’s own perception and fast revolution rattle my mind. Our maid gave me a pitiful look. My little sister looked away. Suddenly, the stolen chocolates, the frog,
the sea-kissing-sun, the road under repair and the two persons in the picture
didn’t make sense at all. I felt all
alone. How I wish some magical angels of
Jesus would help me.
I forgot to tell my mom that the wish I wrote on the
green paper star was still a blurred vision from my imagination.
My CW 10 teacher tasked us to write whatever it is that comes to our mind- random events random things, correlations between the paragraphs aren't even necessary. Here is my output. It's not good. I am no writer and this blog was not meant to be read by everyone.
Cheers!
DMD
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