Wednesday, March 09, 2005

MOVING HOUSE – AGAIN!

About two years ago, we left our old house in Sta. Cruz to move to an apartment near Mitch and Jaybee’s school. It was such a difficult decision to make because the house was so full of happy memories. It wasn’t just a home for my family, but for our church as well. The very first worship service for the first Reformed Church in that town was held in our living room, and later, when a small building was built to house the church, the house became an extension for Sunday School.

Now, two years later, we are moving back. At least my mom and sister are coming back to stay. The girls and I will only come home for the weekends. On school days, we will be in Calamba.

The house is so different now. Two years of neglect has taken its toll, so it would take a lot of money and effort to get it back in shape. Even the yard looks different. My dad, when he was still alive, spent hours tending his plants and fruit-bearing trees. You will never see a clump of weeds daring to show itself on my father’s private domain. Even now, I can still see him busily watering and pruning his favorite “rosal”, spraying the “langka” tree, or just standing in the middle of the yard, admiring his handiwork.

But that was a long time ago. Now the yard is overrun with weeds, the flowering plants have been stolen, some of my Mom’s orchids are missing, and the fence… it’s no longer there. The neighbors have torn down the fence so that they can take a shortcut through our property. Some people have no sense of respect.

And the house itself… the wallpapers are torn, the termites have found their way to the wooden doorframe, and the paint is starting to peel. . The house looks so sad and abandoned I can’t help feeling guilty for leaving it for so long. As I stand in the living room, I remember my daughter growing up in this house. This is where she has taken her first step, said her first word, celebrated her first birthday, her first Christmas. This is where she and her grandfather had played so many times, her childish voice mingling with my father’s deep one as he tells her stories of his boyhood. I remember them laughing together, her laughter tinkling like tiny bells as she and grandpa played horsie on the living room floor.

So many memories. Some were happy, and some were sad. I don’t know if coming back here is a good thing. My mom will remember that this is the house my dad built for her. That she has spent 50 years with him until she lost him to cancer in this very house. That she will no longer be able to see him working alongside her as she tends her orchids, and him, his part of the yard.

Everything is still a big question mark. Will we be able to settle back in this house? Will the happy memories outweigh the sad ones? Will the girls be able to rediscover old friendships? Will Mom be happier here, in her husband’s house? Will my sister manage to look after her in spite of her job? Maybe, time will have all the answers. Maybe we will be staying. And then, maybe not.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

EXTREMES

This week has been an exceptional week. I went to a lot of extremes and it amazes me that I survived. God has a way of of making you face up your strength and weaknesses, and then lead you to reaching your potentials. He also shows you who your real friends are, the ones who would stay with you, not only in good times, but especially during the bad times. Some of the things that happened were trivial, and funny, now that I think about it. Some were really heart-rending. But they made me open my eyes to a lot of things. But that is another story.