remember in June 2017
when you passed the exam
i couldn't wait to know the results
(but it turned out you were not even looking forward to me knowing the results)
because i thought it was important for you and that it is important that i also take pride in your success.
the website where the list of passers are published updates at least at mid morning, so noon was the best time to checked.
your name was not hard to find because it's within the first the first letters of the alphabet.
so immediately, i sent you a message. (if that message could bleed excitement your phone would be smothered in it.)
(but too late, it turned out to be a stupid, desperate-for-attention move.)
You informed me that my news is nothing but stale and your gave a flat reply, apparently forced.
"Yeah, I knew. Dolly already called me about it early today."
the reply was heavy with annoyance, impatience, irritation. like questioning my right to care about the news.
reading between the tone of displeasure, i told myself, it must be a wrong time to send the message. you were busy with work saving the city, making your name known; work that would lead to sure success, with your names plastered all over the city bulletin.
it hit me suddenly, that i was intruding in some private celebration that only you and your colleagues and friends should indulge in. I shouldn't have eavesdropped.
i'm sorry i had to intrude.
i'm even sorrier to have sent that congratulatory text. i was not even invited to be part of the congratulating clique.
how presumptuous of me.
and the rest of the afternoon fell silent without any messages from you, because what else is there to expect.
came dinner time and i needed a headcount, so i had to ask: "Are you coming home for dinner."
to which you flatly replied again, obviously crossed for being interrupted, to not wait up because you will be out the whole night celebrating your passing the exam with your friends because
"It's tradition to celebrate within our circle when somebody passes the exam,"
which is a new, novel thing to you: participating in traditions because our family never had any traditions to begin with. nobody bothered to start it. and if the elders had any, you hated them. so to be part of this radical tradition must be something very meaningful to you; to be finally part of a set of exceedingly intellectual, visionary, omnipotent, ever-supportive, vastly influential circle of known professionals. something i could never offer no matter how hard i would try.
that's comforting to know.
that you would rather make memories with your highly revered, intelligent, creative, wonderful, successful friends.
that with me, you would only want to make babies,
but never memories, Tatay,
never memories.
when you passed the exam
i couldn't wait to know the results
(but it turned out you were not even looking forward to me knowing the results)
because i thought it was important for you and that it is important that i also take pride in your success.
the website where the list of passers are published updates at least at mid morning, so noon was the best time to checked.
your name was not hard to find because it's within the first the first letters of the alphabet.
so immediately, i sent you a message. (if that message could bleed excitement your phone would be smothered in it.)
(but too late, it turned out to be a stupid, desperate-for-attention move.)
You informed me that my news is nothing but stale and your gave a flat reply, apparently forced.
"Yeah, I knew. Dolly already called me about it early today."
the reply was heavy with annoyance, impatience, irritation. like questioning my right to care about the news.
reading between the tone of displeasure, i told myself, it must be a wrong time to send the message. you were busy with work saving the city, making your name known; work that would lead to sure success, with your names plastered all over the city bulletin.
it hit me suddenly, that i was intruding in some private celebration that only you and your colleagues and friends should indulge in. I shouldn't have eavesdropped.
i'm sorry i had to intrude.
i'm even sorrier to have sent that congratulatory text. i was not even invited to be part of the congratulating clique.
how presumptuous of me.
and the rest of the afternoon fell silent without any messages from you, because what else is there to expect.
came dinner time and i needed a headcount, so i had to ask: "Are you coming home for dinner."
to which you flatly replied again, obviously crossed for being interrupted, to not wait up because you will be out the whole night celebrating your passing the exam with your friends because
"It's tradition to celebrate within our circle when somebody passes the exam,"
which is a new, novel thing to you: participating in traditions because our family never had any traditions to begin with. nobody bothered to start it. and if the elders had any, you hated them. so to be part of this radical tradition must be something very meaningful to you; to be finally part of a set of exceedingly intellectual, visionary, omnipotent, ever-supportive, vastly influential circle of known professionals. something i could never offer no matter how hard i would try.
that's comforting to know.
that you would rather make memories with your highly revered, intelligent, creative, wonderful, successful friends.
that with me, you would only want to make babies,
but never memories, Tatay,
never memories.