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HONORING MY MOTHER | THE RETURN OF THE COMEBACK

By Icoy San Pedro

AN interesting talk with a friend takes me back to the old days when, by his own words, life was simpler. Wishy-washy as I am these days, I’m not entirely sure if I even agree with him on that. Who knows, on a different night and mood, I might have merely nodded “agree” and toasted him on that, but not today. I’m not waxing sentimental at the moment. I haven’t watched my Netflix dopamine yet.

Life may have looked simple back then, but if one looked through each detail closely, it really wasn’t. We were just dealing with different sets of reality, period.  It only may have likewise seemed simpler back then because we definitely were still a few clicks to being near-idiots during those early years and if I may add, foolish with lots of youthful energy still to burn. On a scientific note, another good friend, Vega, would say our frontal lobes weren’t yet fully developed back then. Ha! Agree with me or not, we can at least laugh about that.

For a brief moment, our chat turned to country politics which I unsuccessfully tried to veer away from. The only thing we agreed on was that, if one had read Constantino, the trip to Jerusalem chairs are still pretty much the same; like those old elementary school wooden seats that had served the butts of more than a million pupils through the years. With every new administration, it had always been a case of the boot being on the other foot. And yes, while brilliance may seem like a flash in the pan in our politics, mediocrity still rules and self-service always takes on new meaning every time.

On second thought, reminiscing about the old days has its merits too. If one  really wanted to be quite literal about it, just look down at the ground you’re presently stepping on. By the length and breaths of life, that is as far as you have come. Laugh about that or disagree with me, at least another drink is in order.

Our last sober topic before the final tap on the back was our late friend, Vernon. I said the guy during one of his rare visits to Davao actively sought me out and visited me in our mountain just so we could meet again after so many years. He said two of our friends he had failed to meet during his earlier visits had already passed by the time he came back. He didn’t want that to be the same with me.  Of course we laughed at that. He even gifted my son 50 dollars as pasalubong. Thanks uncle Vern.

Finally, it was getting  a little late (about 8 o’clock senior citizen time) and reminiscing about the good old days may have to wait another time. We both said till next time and added “Simba Ko” when I quipped ”who knows, Vern might meet with us on his next visit.” 

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