The Truth

I wonder if some of our questions will ever get answered.

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My father told us of the story when he first liked a girl in high school.

He lived in a very rural area where houses were made of bamboo sticks and roofs were woven, palm-like leaves we call nipa. Since these are all light materials, the houses were often renovated by replacing old bamboo with new ones and removing dilapidated nipa with a fresh woven batch. When times are fortunate and the country doesnt suffer from very strong typhoons, it would take 6 to 8 years before one would need to do such renovations.

When my father entered high school, he liked a girl in his class. According to him, she was smart and stood out from among the girls. So, one day, he wrote a letter to this girl asking her to be his girlfriend, tucked it in an envelope and asked his closest friend to hand the letter over to the girl.

There were times when he thought the girl liked him too. At least, thats how it appeared to him. So he was very dismayed when a few days later, the letter came back to him, via his friend, still tucked in the same envelope. At 13, and in the presence of a friend, a defeat in the arena of love is just unimaginable.

He was so angry and hurt that he did not even dare to check whether the letter was read or not. When he traced his finger on the seal, he knew his message was rejected. So, to forget about it all, and to save him from further humiliation in case someone finds out about the letter, he tucked it underneath the woven nipa sheets, hidden from anyone's vision.

And he vowed to dislike her.

And she grew meaner by the day, giving him this angry looks.

Four years later, when it was time to change the roof, and he was manly-built enough to do the job, an almost unrecognizable piece of paper slipped from under the sheets. He picked it us and dusted it off only to remember it was the letter he had chosen to forget four years back.

He laughed at his stupidity. He was secretly embarrassed at the remembrance of that painful moment. Then, he decided to open the letter that seemed sealed. He was reminded of the indignant looks the girl had given him a few days after he decided to hate her. He remembered how he would intentionally choose to not be near her.

He opened his letter. His handwriting looked elementary. His words were now tasteless and did not spur any emotion, no, not even a sigh. He read it through, down to the very part where he signed his name. He laughed at himself again and decided to get back to working as the sun was starting to scorch his bare back. He thought of crumpling the letter and throwing it but decided against it just in case someone would suspiciously find it. His reputation , yes even in his household, was at stake. He decided to fold it, tuck it back in the envelope, and burn it right after he finishes his work.

And when he flipped the paper to fold it, he saw an unfamiliar handwriting at the back of the paper. He did not remember writing an extra line at the back. The handwriting didn't look like his either. In fact, it looked...girl-ly.

And the scribbled line said: "Yes, I want to be your girlfriend."

The four years was explained in that single sentence. Four years too late.

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I have questions too. Questions that if they were answered would have given light to situations that changed the course of my relationships. From that moment when I asked and I got back the 'look' that told me "YOU won't get any answers", I have surrendered. But surrender is a daily thing. I look up the sky sometimes and wonder if an answer is tucked somewhere, but, tell my self everyday, the answers are hidden for a purpose.

Someday, when it is cleaning time, it will come to me...but I am not so sure if they would still be of any value.

The truth will set us free

The truth is free

The truth is

I feel Free