One day at a time

She knew his father.

"We worked together for ten years," she said.

"Talaga po?" he said.

"Oo! I love him so much. Hinahatak ko siya kahit saan. Kahit may schedule pa siya, game siya. Tapos, sabi ko... sabi ko lang, ililibre kita if you come with me. Tapos one day bigla siyang magte-text sa akin. 'abi niya, 'libre mo naman ako!'"

"He's always been like that," he said.

It's been a year since his father passed away.

"How is your mom?" she asked. "How are you all?"

"Umm," he hesitates. "We're taking it one day at a time po."

"Is your mom okay?"

"She is. We're doing fine naman. One day at a time."

It's a bit disconcerting being witness to this conversation - a long one, longer than either intended, longer than I was supposed to hear. It was not a reunion; it was not a planned meet-up over coffee. It was work, sort of.

It's a bit disconcerting being witness to this conversation. Here are two people, talking about a third person they clearly loved, and here I am, unintentionally listening in and knowing who he is.

It's a bit disconcerting realizing that one of these days, you will be in one of these conversations. Either you know someone, or you lost someone.

"Mahal na mahal ko ang dad mo," she said. "Napakamaalaga niya. When we're working on a project he would just crack jokes. Naku, tawang-tawa kami."

"Ganun nga po si dad," he said.

"You know, at first I never thought of him as a warm person. Akala mo sa simula, serious palagi. Must be because he's a college professor."

"Hindi naman po siya mabiro sa amin."


"Kapag nag-uusap po kami, medyo analytical. Sports, ganun..."

"Hindi siya malambing sa inyo?"

"Malambing naman po siya, pero sa words..."

"Men of a certain age talaga, ano?" She looks at his eyes, and they seem to both understand.

And your responses...

Post a Comment