Let me tell you now
You used to tell me that the world is just at my fingertips. You used to tell me that nowadays, everything is reachable with just a click, a push, a touch. You used to tell me that we can make a difference in our own little ways. I believed in you, and here I am now facing the world as I must.
When I received my diploma last March, you were there, of course, the most important, doting person in my life, in your best clothes, your hair fixed the best way you thought it should be for the occasion, and your face wearing your happiest and most affectionate smile. Once in a while, I’d glance at you to make sure you remained comfortable where you were seated. And as I looked at you, memories of the many sacrifices and academic pressures I had gone through flashed in my mind and I thought I could not have overcome all of them without you.
Even right after graduation day, I continued to struggle with my uncertainties: Where would my life’s journey lead to? What would I become? Who should I believe in the “outside world”? I had imagined myself in the multitude of fresh graduates queuing up for a one-in-thousands-chance at employment. Fortunately, I was spared the trouble. A few days later, I received a call from one of the companies to which I had submitted my resumé two months before graduation. After an interview, I got hired a month later.
You used to remind me to give my best, to look my best, and feel my best. That counsel of yours has never failed me, you never failed me. And now that I am already away from home—literally mountains and seas apart—there are certain things I wish to tell you.
I wish I could assure you there is really nothing to worry about me. I was hired because they saw in me the independence, the determination and the skills they wanted, and the spirit to learn more about life, the world and anything beyond imagination. The challenges I encountered during my academic and teenage years had prepared me for this life. I wish I could tell you that I have complete meals every day-from entrée soup to main dish to desserts. You do not have to worry about me not liking vegetables or “tinolang manok,” the chefs here exactly know where and how to cater to the taste buds of the employees. I also get free ice cream from generous officemates during payday.
I wish you would not worry too much about my health. Yes, I have been to the company clinic thrice already, but my asthma attacks are controllable. I always have with me my inhalers and maintenance medicine and vitamins. And I do less strenuous activities here, though at times, I really wish to climb the mountains.
I wish you’d sleep soundly at night without getting worried about bedbugs or mosquitoes biting me. The dormitory rooms here are safe and sound, and my windows have screens. My electric fan is working. I even have “glow-in-the-darks.” I go to bed early, and I rise before the sun does. My laundry is washed every other day, and I have enough clothes for the six-week-field-work-and-two-week-break regimen.
I wish I could tell you that I am, modesty aside, exceptionally doing fine with my six-month project here. Each day opens a new world for me. I get to meet and interact with our less fortunate brothers and sisters here, and I have come to realize how blessed I am to have finished my schooling, to be able to eat three square meals a day, to have clothes on my back and a roof over my head. I owe these all to you. I want to tell you that no matter how much you want to shield me from the world’s harsh realities, I’ve got to face them on my own now. Yes, there are times I’d get disheartened seeing the plight of the people here and wish to go home, but I have to stay strong, accept the realities and be flexible so that I can do my part in making a difference here.
The local folks around here have a lot of moving stories to tell, and there are times when I get deeply emotionally affected by them. But one thing these stories have clearly shown me: there will always be ways to get through any “rain.” Their lifestyle here is not much to envy, but they are not without priceless treasures—close family ties, strong faith in God, hardworking hands, to name a few. I have learned that simplicity in life is still a key to genuine happiness.
I wish you had not shed a tear or two when I called to tell you that early morning a day after I and a friend had broken up our special relationship. It was really that we agreed to give ourselves time and space to fulfill our separate dreams, although we really feel that with this arrangement, we are in effect pursuing our dreams together. God is planning our future together; he is taking the first step, and I’m letting him lead the way. As a line from a song suggests, “Big girls don’t cry,” and I am a big girl now.
I wish I could tell you that you have done enough for me already, that I have grown into the lady you wanted me to become, that your love and care greatly helped to make me what I am and bring me to where I am now, that your sacrifices for me are eternally appreciated. Like you said, the world is at my fingertips and I believe because you taught me to believe in the impossible. I may never be the same again, but I will always be close to you and you will be forever in my heart.
This time, let me be the one to tell you that it is time for you to enjoy life—smell the flowers, count the stars.
It is my turn to take care of you. I may be a grown-up person now, but you are still—and will forever be—my best friend, my closest and most dependable confidante, my inspiration, my mother.
Rianne Marie P. Miranda, 21, is a project officer at TVI Resource Development (Phil.) Inc.
