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[av_heading heading=’MY LIFE AS ART ‘ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=” subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=” av-medium-font-size-title=” av-small-font-size-title=” av-mini-font-size-title=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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XXXIV. Shooting star
They wished on the same star. He knew what she wished for. Could she have guessed his?
*
What could I tell my parents?
I really didn’t know anything about Emilio.
I thought of aborting the child in my womb, but I didn’t think that was right either. Emilio said he was the bakunawa.
What did he mean by that?
Was he joking with me?
Was he being truthful?
*
A year ago, I thought the bakunawa story was just a fairy tale.
I didn’t care what Emilio said.
I didn’t even think I listened to him at all.
So, why, now, do I cling to the story of the bakunawa?
Why do I so desperately need the story to come true?
Matt only shook his head.
It was dawning in the eastern sky.
*
Matt liked daybreaks as much as sunsets.
He becomes more reflective at sunset, more prayerful.
Then he goes to work, sings all night, usually leaves the clubs around 2:00 a.m., sometimes three, then, he waits for the sun to come up, feeling hopeful, feeling brand new.
He likes to sleep assured he has seen a new day.
*
He always said, not that he was any good at giving advice, but he always said to friends in trouble, All we need is the morning.
Night, he said, is what life was like in the very beginning.
No world, no phenomena. Only darkness and stillness.
The world began when the first ray of light flashed across the darkness.
In the same way, morning, and the entire world, begins when the first ray of dawn illuminates the night sky.
*
Do you believe in the story of the bakunawa, Matt?
My grandmother invented the myth of the bakunawa, Dulce.
I know that it is a myth. I don’t know what else to say.
You are a good person, Matt, Dulce said softly.
You are a good person, too, Dulce.
They sat in silence for some time.
A shooting star blazed across the sky.
Look! Matt pointed to the star.
*
Did you make a wish? asked Dulce.
Matt nodded. Did you?
Dulce smiled. Then, she nodded yes.
Wishes are good, Matt said. But they are not everything.
Sometimes, we need to do things for ourselves.
*
Dulce nodded in agreement, I know. I understand.
I have my baby to think about. I am no longer just myself.
I need to be a good mother to my son.
Matt stared at Dulce, whose face now showed some brave assurance.
Whatever the outcome of this Bakunawa Festival, I will be a real mother to my son as my mother was to me.
Matt became teary eyed, Promise?
Dulce nodded, Proh-mise!
*
The way she said it felt like a déjà vu.
He used to say “proh-mise” when he was a child.
A breeze blew against Dulce’s face.
He looked at her, as if for the first time, as she sat serenely with the sleeping baby in her arms, with dawn reflected on her skin.
She seemed illuminated, as if viewed with a new-found love. (To be continued)/PN
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