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Honoring my Mother | Vulnerable

With our family isolation nearing its one month anniversary, I am foolishly wishing we could celebrate it by eating out. Alas, that is just a case of helplessly hoping.

As a member of society’s 60-and-above club, the realization of belonging to that special section of the pack is slowly forced upon me, and it’s beginning to feel like one bad practical joke. After all, it’s not ‘special forces’ that I presently find myself in, but ‘special’, as in especially prone to get COVID-19.

As such, I am no longer allowed to go out of the gate, except to feed my stray cats, and that only takes a few minutes. Gone also are the short forays to the sari-sari store to get ciggies. Or buy Snow Bear. Whenever Marvin, our fish delivery guy comes, it is either my son or my matey who comes out of the gate to meet him and choose our orders for the week. I used to be the alpha around here, you know. I’m not even beta or delta anything now, and it just makes me feel older. Lest I meet my omega, my matey warden insists that I stay put. C2B, confined to barracks.

I remember that during my travels, I once visited a museum of modern art in München that had a neon sign at its entrance which said, “can you just imagine the opposite?” Had I chosen to remain hardheaded during this whole pandemic thingy, what would have been the consequences? All I know is that, another saying “it only happens to others”, is suddenly shot full of holes in this pandemic, and all at once, even the air we breathe has indeed become scary.

At the same moment, my thoughts wander to my 91-year old old man. With a head that is notoriously harder than mine, how is he holding out? Much better than other yodas his age, I hope. I’ve yet to call him later.

Back at our home, the after dinner discussions always get pulled towards the daily sacrifices of the medical front-liners who at this moment fight the virus in the many hospitals in the country and around the world. Sadly, some of the medical casualties have been guys my age, and that alone has left me thinking, what am i griping about? Then I remember, a third of my school batchmates are doctors, and i’m suddenly more upset. I hope they are all okey.

I’m at once thinking, I hope this thing is over by August or December. Then we could all come together once again at the school reunion party and just chill this nightmare out of everyone’s memory. Thank them too, I surely will, as I am thanking them all now. Let’s see, there’s Bong, Oca, Gay, Monchu, Kiko, Ron, Jack, and many others. Thwy know who they are. At this time when the rest of us feel so vulnerable (not to mention old), you guys still continue to make us proud. Salute!

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