Now Hang Me Up to Dry
April for me has always been a month to be anticipated longingly. Several reasons spill like summer vacation, family and friends reunions, blah blah blah. I managed to go to St. Paul last Friday to loo out over some CAT aspirants and meet some fellow, uhh, alumni. To my disappointment, only a few of whom I knew came to train the young juniors in their grimy white shirts about pseudo-militarization.
Ralph and I sashayed into the comfort room and as we exited, our principal was walking towards us in the corridors.
“Ralph, Sister’s approaching. Hurry up!” I whispered, “She’s gonna talk us to death.”
“I do want to talk to her.” He thought a sacramental attention would give him karma points.
Seven feet away from us, Sister paused as if she’s seen ghosts. Well, maybe.
“Is that Barry? And…”
“Ralph, Sister,” I aided.
“Rabang?” she continued. We gave an affirmative glance.
And then a chat commenced with amusing lines which exactly went, “It’s good that you’re visiting back here. This is your Alma Mater. This is your soul, your umbilical chord.”
Really now? A pancreas could do. Mocking aside, I do not completely shove my Catholic high school like how the others have done. I still think coming back to the confined place is a nostalgic thing to do, especially when I see a certain something and subsequently a bucket of memories gushes to my innards. It’s a feeling I would not exchange for anything.
Sister then recalled Ralph’s legacy in the school– his currently enrolled younger siblings. That’s probably how she remembered his family name. “See how time flies?” she cliched.
Of course, time. Who would ever argue that time goes by slowly, unless they’ve inhaled a downer. I’m already a college junior. The CAT aspirants who were just wearing their souls out, enjoying their sunburn, body odor and dirt mounts are high school juniors. I tend to look back at my Shao Lin (I don’t call them chinito) pictures… How… G-gr-gross!
I looked like a wuss years ago, with a slightly charming smile I could use for making tawad in a tiangge (if ever I was in a tiangge). I’m glad that I no longer look like one now. Modesty aside, I hell don’t.
Time flies such that it soars, never having the chance to touch the ground, only looking down. A couple of my close classmate have inflated their tummies making room for their heirs. A not so surprising event in case somebody else feels envy, wanting to get pregnant early.
Time flies, and I surely cannot stop it. I’m glad I do have a cellular photographic memory: I’ve rememebred exactly how things have happened in the crazy circus called high school.