A few months ago, I fainted at the very idea of you coming into my world. My knees buckled, my skin turned pale, and I shivered at the very idea of you, even in a very remote sense, being a part of me. I was afraid to batten down the hatches and take a plunge, just because of things I never had anything to do with, decisions I never made, and mistakes I didn’t commit.
Awhile back, I opened my eyes from a quick nap in the bus, and checked a message waiting for me. The first thing I saw was the blur from the tears in my eyes, knowing that the very moment I anticipated for three months was here, and was now. I had mixed feelings; a bit of resentment, a bit of shock, and a feeling that’s hard to explain. It was like someone took me apart and brought me back again, and it felt good.
In a few days, give or take, I’ll probably be there, and take you out on a walk on foggy mornings and wait for the Sun to warm us up. I’ll give you what I can provide, and whatever I can’t give, I’ll make up for it in so many other ways. You’ll be seeing things you never thought existed, perspectives you never thought were there to begin with. I’ll do my best to show you a world that in time, you can change.
A few hours ago, you opened your eyes, you took your first few breaths, you made your first cries and wails. The first thing you saw were Mama’s tearful eyes, or Lola’s happy face, or perhaps the well-meaning grins of those funny-looking people in white coats that I hope you won’t see often. I know I don’t, but I get to see some of them every once in a while.
Awhile back, everybody’s going “oooh” and “aaah” over you. The first thing they did was to check your vital signs, to check your weight and height, to see if you’re perfectly healthy. And you were every bit as perfect; no mixed feelings, no misgivings, everything was just the way it’s meant to be. It was like someone gave everyone in that room a blessing, a miracle to believe in, a memory to treasure forever.
In a few days, Mama will bring you out to blue skies and sunshine, and you’ll get your first glimpse of the world. A world beyond the cartoon characters painted on the walls of the hospital room, and to a crib at the house, with stuffed toys, mobiles, and posters of cartoon characters. In a few years, you’ll see your own share of the world with your own two eyes – a world without blue skies and sunshine and cartoon characters and plushies – and change it with your own two hands.
Maybe this world is not meant to be seen from the eyes of 23-year-old chain-smoking drunkard writers. I guess the world is best seen from the eyes of newborns, who open their eyes for the very first time, and see the world for what it really is: a wonderful place of smiles, of giggles, of fun, laughter, and yes, happiness.
From over a hundred miles away… welcome to the world, Li-Mei!
Postscript: A beautiful, healthy baby girl was born at 7:04 PM last night, February 10, 2009, at a certain hospital back home in Baguio City. That baby girl is my niece, Li-Mei. – marocharim
