I wonder why I usually start my blogs with the food that I ate. Anyways, Mark ate dinner here. We had pansit sotanghon with mushrooms, cheese sticks (plain and pimiento), puto with butter or cheese, syrup-glazed turon, chicharon, and meringue. I'm stuffed yet again, hehe.

Something my mom said early this morning made my blood freeze. She asked me if our health service provider included dependents. She said that their current provider wuz doubling its fee. Then she added that as they grew older, health care providers became more of a necessity. That stung me. It really did. My parents are getting older. It's hard to imagine 'coz they're both such kids-at-heart. I still can't believe that they're in their 50's. They sure don't look it.

I... I just get bummed out whenever I realize that our mortality is real. Especially if they involve people I love. I still carry a small grudge over what happened early this year. I've learned to forgive them, but forgetting takes more time. When I was struck with pneumonia and asthmatic bronchitis March of this year, I found out who my real friends were. At the height of the SARS scare, I found out who really cared. Looking back, I can't believe I lived through that. Whatta struggle! Everything ached. My head, my throat, my nose, my chest, my lungs, my eyes, my back... I don't ever wanna get that sick again! Felt so vulnerable. Funny it happened after seeing my ex again for the last time.

Anyways...

Sad to say, that was also the time that I realized my folks didn't love me as much as they do my sisters. I always thought that they loved me and stuff. I've always tried to be a good son, aimed for honors and high grades, and stayed away from alcohol, yosi and drugs. Still...

But yeah, they love me. Just not as much. Regardless, I still love the two of 'em very much, but ever since I got well again, I've detached myself from them. Sure, we laugh around and still talk now and then, but I see things a lil differently now. Don't wanna expect anymore. That was also the turning point in my relationships with other people. I withdrew nto myself more.

Hm.

Anyways, here's a piece I wrote July of this year. One of the many that i wanted to send to Youngblood but at the last minute, I'd always chicken out.

"Coming Home"

It's 4:00 am. Do you know where your children are?

I just got home and I automatically turned on my pc to check on some stuff. I remembered something I saw earlier this evening. My friends and I were walking along the surprisingly deserted streets of Rockwell, when I saw this kid walking with his parents. He was waving goodbye to them and started down the road when his dad shouted "what time will you get home?" I saw the guy give his dad an irritated look before walking away.

I thought to myself, parents love nagging their kids. Each time you're about to leave the house, the standard MOMoperating procedures take into effect. Where are you going? What time will you be home? Who are you going out with? Don't stay out too late. Don't drink too much. Etc, etc. I used to hate this... until my parents started to look older.

When you see gray hair invading your parents scalps, when you see wrinkles form all over their faces, when you see that they get tired so easily and they sleep earlier than usual. When you realize that they won't live forever, not like when you were a kid when you believed that they will always be there... that's when you begin to miss them. And you start feeling like a kid again.

With everything that you hear, read and see in the news, it feels good to know that your parents still care about your welfare. I guess no matter what age we reach, we will always be a kid in their eyes. No matter what. The world outside that we visit each time we leave the house will always remain dangerous. Scary. Unpredictable. They just want our assurance that we will stay alert and cautious. Doesn't take much to give that. For their peace of mind, letting them know that we would be careful would mean more than we think.

Before my childhood friend was killed a little over 2 months ago, he was extra-sweet to his wife. He told her how much he loved her and even texted her a couple of times before his car rammed the Makati tunnel after falling asleep on the wheel. Our mortality is guaranteed. It would be nice if our parents knew that our love for them is guaranteed as well. Never hurts to say "I love you." Or "I'm home. And safely stuck in front of the computer, sharing my thoughts."

It's 4:15 am. My parents know their child is home.

I just told them.