I led a boring childhood – because it was a happy one.
Nothing tragic happened except for the time when one of my sisters dropped me face down on pure, concrete, jagged flooring when I was a few months old.
That tragedy bore two bumps on my forehead, which, if you look closely, appear to be where the mythical she-devil horns come out.
Thankfully, these bumps are only obvious when I frown – which unfortunately, and ironically enough, is my default face.
But, really, I was a happy kid.
Not that I resent it.
It’s just not too good a background to use as material for a teenage-writer-wanna-be.
Then I grew aware of the people around me apart from my family, and realized I was lucky.
Darn it!
Happy and lucky – how do you suppose I could win a Palanca now when I don’t have even one dysfunctional component in the foundation of my being?!
Where do you heave the emotion, the angst, the passion?
I was doomed.
I’m the youngest of six siblings.
The eldest was 17 when I was born.
And the youngest, up until I came, was 9.
Oh, yes, I was an accident.
Be that as it may, I was loved.
Ew.
Really, I had no chance on drama from the start.
Blame it on my Mother.
She is generosity personified.
She makes upright hip.
She is witty enough to laugh at her mistakes, but is decent enough not to laugh at others’.
She is strong-willed, but has the softest of hearts.
She upholds smarts, but applauds integrity.
And above all, she makes love come easy.
And we – my Father, my siblings, and I – are just prototypes of her character.
Or we try to be.
See, she is the root of all things nice.
And her essence ties the whole family into one big… happy thought.
SHE is my ultimate happy thought.
And today is her birthday.
If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t be what I am now – a pseudo Drama Queen with no real childhood-related tragedy in her portfolio… and I can’t thank her enough.
So, cheers, Nanay.
Here’s to the celebration of your eternal kindness and wisdom.
