The Reunion

Oh, Joanna just had a chat with me today through Yahoo Messenger. She is a distant friend working for care homes in Canada but no matter how many miles apart we are due to inevitable circumstances in life, she is always dear in my heart.

I heard she is coming over to spend Christmas with her loved ones. She found a new inspiration in her life there and that made me flash a wide grin in front of the camera earlier. She was happy to see the big smile in me and she reciprocated with a sigh, perhaps relieved knowing I was ready to accept her new found relationship. We haven't really talked much since she flew in to Canada to better her life and her daughter's whom she abandoned years ago under the custody of her mom. I told her how smart her daughter had become the last time I paid a visit back home. Then, she asked about my sister who is just a few years older than her daughter.

We talked about life, our struggles, our happiness, and the benign future we expect to be awaiting us. We ended the jovial conversation with my head inclined to recall one mushy yet glorious evening in my life.

After the duck hunt, a reunion with my family was about to unfold.

I wanted to go back home and the yearning to see my family again after being away for several weeks had been even more inflamed when I heard from a relative that my mom had just given birth to the only girl among my siblings. My happiness was beyond horizon but I felt bitter and hesitant still that seeing my family especially the newly born angel would entail enough courage from me. The fear I had for my inebriate dad when I was younger persisted in my teen life though he had started cutting loose from the intoxicating addiction. I had to gather my strength enough to humble before my parents especially my dad's high-and-mighty tower. I almost gave up thinking how to possibly push through with the plan that day. Almost feeling hopeless, I ended up drinking the ubiquitous brand of gin available in all the stores in the neighborhood with Brandon (Kuya M's younger brother) up until around ten p.m that night.

We had our usual talks of our lives, dreams, and youthful stories to tell. I felt comfortable sharing everything with him but not the secret I had been contemplating on earlier and was forging in the inward bravado in me. I never told Brandon I was going home on that dark night with the diminishing yet seemingly endless downpour. I left after our short drink and managed to wedge the bottle of glue inside my underwear. I got my hand on a bottle of a glue or a contact cement and though this skeleton of my past had to be resurrected, I had to succumb to its temporary effect to agitate the cringed fear inside me.

It was dark and I arrived almost drenched in the rain at the backyard of the house. Our dog was there but it never barked. It only gave me a whimpering sound and I felt how it missed me with his waggly tail, lunging it's head towards me. I decided to go near my parents' room to hear the crying baby. I was a bit drunk but it wasn't enough to boldly bolt me out where I was to see my parents face to face. The baby would continually cry but that was like sweet melody to my ears. I felt overjoyed knowing I already had a sister though was vaguely unsure if I could see how she looked. That made my heart melt still sensing if my moves would give me the expected end-product which is the longing to see my sister. I eased my face closer to the galvanized wall of the house and I could hear my mom trying to lull my baby sister to sleep. I missed my mom too as she was hushing the baby out. A spurt of emotions got caught in my throat and I remember wiping tears rolling out my eyes.

Braving myself enough, I took out the bottle of glue and a small plastic bag which I managed to obtain from the horse stable in the courtyard earlier. My spot in the back of the house was dark. The neighbors exterior bulbs and lamps a few meters away were not enough to illuminate my drunken self, my maniacal huffing of the glue. I remember talking to the dog then when my stupefied demeanor and mentality made the world stop. The last thing I recall seeing was the empty bottle of glue. I couldn't believe myself emptying almost a half-litter of bottle through huffing.

Next came hysteria, I was crying uncontrollably and so was my mom. My dad on the other hand was drunken, heavily snoring in bed like there's no tomorrow. He didn't see the drama. Nevertheless, I felt so happy making it inside. That was the first time I said "I love you" to my mom. My other brothers were there, one of them making me a cup of coffee. My sister was there, soundly asleep in the antiquated crib. I looked at my mom and she saw the eagerness in me. She motioned to me and I caught the angel in my palms. I was at home eventually sobered a few minutes before the daylight wrapped the darkness that canopied the recent events in my life.