In A Month of A Thousand Cranes

On December 17, 2008, 7:48 PM, Ate Jackie gave me a pad paper as an early Christmas present.

Thank you, ate Jackie; this gift shall mark a tradition I intend to keep.


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On December 17, 2008, two hours and 36 minutes after I was given the pad paper from Ate Jackie, right outside the Capitol building, my mother called me.

Her youngest male brother (but how could a brother be female?), my uncle, passed away. He had cancer.

My tradition commenced at such a sad note.


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That same night, I discovered that our PC has long gone insane.

Its fate now lay in the hands of my brother’s best friend and computer extraordinaire, Eric.


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December 19, 9:39 AM

Dear Metrobank,

Please refrain from playing with my ATM card whenever I transact with you because it’s not funny. What would you feel if you’ve been deprived of the salary you’ve worked so hard for?

Sincerely,
Your client


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December 19, 5:36 PM

Sheela and I had cheesecake after our boss announced the “bad news”, right after our gift-giving had turned into a disaster upon such announcement of bad news and upon such moment that a guy-who-shall-never-be-named chose the time of all times to infuriate Ate Jackie.

It didn’t ease the excruciatingly painful fact that that might be the first and last time that Sheela and I could share a slice of cheesecake together.


* * *


On December 20, two hours after waiting seamlessly for all the Deped’s speeches to end, I finally took my oath as a teacher. Ate Jackie, Nicole, Doki, my mother and brother Mat Mat were also there.

It suddenly dawned on me that starting from that time, I will be vulnerable to everything that a teacher will always face. Will I be the teacher from Freedom Writers? Will I experience, firsthand, Notes on A Scandal? Ang Munting Tinig?

Everything, from now on, will be a matter of my choice.


* * *


That same afternoon, I vested off the dress that reminded me of mini-stampedes and forced sits on the grass-covered soccer field and took MatMat, Lorie with Doki to SM, where I showered them with shakes, toys, food, pizzas while I line (the second time that day) patiently to pay for my internet bills.

Trying to forget that my boss was nearly in tears when she cried injustice. Trying to forget deaths that so crawled toward me, closer and closer it drowned my soul. Trying to forget nights where my mother refused not to shed tears.


* * *


On Sunday, December 21, I was able to get in touch with the internet to update my comments on a site. Too bad the site gave up on me. General Error was the term. I call it hypothermia.

I came home to find out I missed an urgent appointment. Still, it didn’t stop me from accompanying my mother for our advanced grocery shopping this Christmas. She laughed. She hit me because she laughed. She hit me because I made her laugh. I hit her, softly just to make it clear, just because I want to, I want to make her happy and I want to prove to the world that death does not destroy everything.

That night, I cried over Charice singing “Oh Holy Night.” I cried over the book I finished, “The Lovely Bones.” I cried over the fact that in six more hours, I’ll see people for what might be the last time. I cried over the fact that things will always change, things will never be the same, and things will never be fair and will never be what you expect.

I wore my heart like a sleeve, and I never regretted it so much than now.



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Up until this point, I continued praying for paper cranes, for a wish that I know will always remain a dream.

Happy Holidays, and continue to dream.