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maliit na bato
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Monday, March 17, 2003
031603 sun 7:26pm
The girl whose hair I pulled. I remember her from before. It was my first time to be a flower girl. I fully expected it to be a family affair. And by family I mean me, my parents, my siblings, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, and lola and lola. So I was disappointed to see this girl from the other side. She’s not my cousin, that I was very sure of. She was this niece of my aunt’s husband-to-be-that-day and she was also a flower girl like me and my ate and my cousin. The first time I saw her I was in awe.
She was pretty.
And I was also turning green.
She was very pretty.
She was this prim type who wouldn’t want a teeny crease on her gown. She kept talking about how her long hair was properly prepared and how a flower girl should properly sit and listen attentively to the mass. We (my cousin and I) hated her. My ate simply related with her. That made me hate her more. Coz you see, it is not often that maddy (she was len-len then) and I concur with each other. It was more likely that we get to fight and my sis sides with her. It was that way usually. So when len-len (maddy) shared my sentiment over that girl, it was a one of a kind union that I decided to cherish. Ergo, I decided to hate that girl more.
It was our first time and we were famished. I personally couldn’t last long in church, that’s why I don’t go to mass on my own free will. It was an ordeal I had to deal with for one whole long, excruciating hour. And did I mention we were starved? So imagine the pressure I went through with that pretty girl talking endlessly about how composed we should be. I was only 4 or 5 that time and endurance was something I’ve never even heard of before. My cousin (thank God for her) helped me make fun of the pretty girl. That made the situation a little less bearable. But when we couldn’t take it anymore (with my ate constantly telling her to just ignore us and telling us to stop), conditions provoked me to do something about it, hence the hair pulling.
I knew the moment I did it I was in big trouble. I knew my ate would tell our mom later on about it. I felt guilty when she cried, a little relieved that we were out of sight of the grown ups (we were in the front pew). I kept a strong face but I was trembling inside. My ate was so mad but len-len (maddy) pep talked me. I aimed for the ribbon on her immaculately tied hair, it was a perfect shot. I couldn’t boast of what I did, couldn’t be proud of that moment even as a child but I made it seem that way anyhow.
And now, more than 15 years later, I saw her again. Yes, the pretty girl. We were in Pangasinan, paying our respect to my uncle’s (my aunt’s husband-to-be-that-day is now my uncle) dead father. She was there and she is still pretty.
What a bummer! I thought pretty girls grow up to be ugly ladies. Apparently, she’s an exception. The moment I saw her I knew she was a stand out. She was fair and her long hair was still immaculately combed. There was no ribbon to pull this time, I wish there was. We didn’t get to talk, we weren’t even introduced to each other. I just heard from them who she was. She’s also graduating this March.
Although her beauty made me stare at her, I tried not to.
I couldn’t torture myself anymore. It was difficult enough for me to know she’s still pretty.
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