I was born at 6:02 a.m. on March 26, my mother’s second child.
I started writing my name at the age of 6. My examination numbers always had either or both a 2 or a 6 in them. And what I like most about every day is to watch the wonderful cascade of
colors in the sky at 6 p.m.
I had always looked forward to reaching 26. Something inside me says this will be my luckiest year. It might be because I have always had this knack for associating my good luck with this number, or maybe mere coincidence brought me to the conclusion that 26 is my lucky number.
Living in a dormitory and pursuing graduate studies were far from what I had been picturing myself at 26. Yet I could have pictured myself holding a stable job for which I am passionate, having a 26-inch waistline, and being engaged to a man of my dreams with whom I travel to the most beautiful places in the world. But no. Maybe those thoughts are just too ideal and
perfect for a 26-year-old.
Or maybe I could have already started a charity for lost cats. Or I might be an active advocate of a good cause. But I ended up none of these today, and I don’t know if I am less or more of what I had expected of myself. And the question is: Have I worked to achieve any of them? Well, the turn of events might have twisted my fate toward what I am today. What might I be today if I had made different choices? I might have been in a different place, but still asking the same question.
Instead, I find myself flying a kite with this group of ladies one fine afternoon while waiting for the sunset with a view of the UP Oblation’s open arms. I have never flown a kite before, so I look for DIY kite-making videos on YouTube to tick this activity off my bucket list. Our kites are made from broomsticks, plastic bags and yarn to serve as string.
We ascertain the wind’s direction and begin to run against it. At first our kites can barely fly 4 feet off the ground. When the wind is too strong, our kites crash as we tighten our hold on the strings. Two of my friends fashion this arrangement: One runs while the other throws the kite upward. It being our first time, we make numerous attempts to keep our kites afloat. And at last, we make them fly high in the sky.
When my kite is being lifted by a whirl of the wind, I learn to gradually let go of a length of my string. I learn to let my kite follow the wind’s direction. And it can only fly higher if I loosen my grip on its string.
This makes me reflect on a lot of things, and my figurative thoughts begin to rise in the air.
Nothing can be made to float gracefully up high without starting right from the ground, eventually allowing its dramatic takeoff by running some distance to catch some wind and giving it a lift. With all the years I have lived on earth, I learned to let go of some things that are out of my control and to focus on making the best out of what I have.
Holding my kite’s string, I realize that I can only let it fly at a certain altitude to keep it connected to myself. And I learn that in order to keep my kite in the sky, I need to keep my feet firm on the ground and my eyes fixed on it as I adjust its movements according to the wind’s direction. With every foot that my kite flies higher, I release an equal length of the string in my hand.
My kite can be that someone I am capable of letting myself be. There is always a risk of my kite crashing to the ground regardless of how beautifully built it is. I should enjoy every moment I soar higher, and I should be humble enough to accept circumstances that are beyond my plans.
Every day since I was born has brought me to where I am and what I am today. Every decision and every turn of events have led me to this open field where people enjoy flying kites. My heart is lighter and I feel joyful. And yes, I witness my kite kept afloat in the marmalade sky at 6 p.m.
Ma. Salvacion B. Pantino, 26, is a graduate student of the School of Statistics in UP Diliman.