By Vicky Joy Demonteverde | March 24, 2021
The memories of us lies in many places.
I met you in a classroom, which one exactly I couldn’t be sure, but it was between four walls in Silliman, and this classroom could be any classroom found in different places all around the campus but it would only be special when you and I are in it. I didn’t love you then, and you barely registered my existence, but a classroom is a good place to start isn’t it?
On the table outside room 9, we would often sit there waiting for the teacher to arrive. The silent girl and the weird guy, that’s us, but sitting on that table we finally talked to each other didn’t we? I have long forgotten who started it or what the topic was, and although the table is not there anymore, it sure was a pleasant memory.
I never really thought I would fall in love with you, that of all the people in all the places in the whole wide world, it was the ilongga always sitting in the second row, who is plain and simple and silent and smart but talks in a funny mix of Bisaya, Hiligaynon, and Tagalog because she isn’t used to speaking the local dialect yet. You aren’t even my type but damn it when you smile you are so cute I want to die.
Remember in the screenhouse? I told you a joke and you laughed and it didn’t matter that the sky is gloomy and we’re cleaning foot-high weeds and we’re itchy and tired and full of dirt. You laughed and it was the best day ever.
When we got so caught up talking you ended up walking with me from Bantayan to Katipunan, I never would have thought that any of those places I have routinely walked past several times would suddenly be so interesting.
You bring magic to the most mundane of places.
You remind me of the shiver of child-like happiness as we shared the 1.5L ice cream in 7/11, the adventures found in book titles in the library, the satisfaction of a mature conversation in the cafeteria, the wonder with the discovery of the mushrooms sprouting all over the amphitheater, the beauty in the little iridescent insects that frequent the Jatropha curcas tree behind the school, the bewildering patterns found in the rice seedlings in the field, the bravery in rescuing that kitten on a Narra tree by Silliman Avenue, and the importance of promises and forgiveness in Freedom Park.
You gave me memory upon memory in so many places, and somewhere between the blue sky, the cold mountains, and the salty sea, I fell in love with you.
But you didn’t return my affections.
You cried when I told you I loved you because you cannot say it back wholeheartedly, even when we laughed and danced below the starry night sky just a few moments before.
Yet I loved you still, in the moment, on the road, in classes, between meals, on silent walks, on long drives, separated by the mountain, the sea and the distance. Yet I loved you still, during laughter, when wiping your tears, despite the arguments, while sitting down, in my dreams, under the rain, while being burnt by the sun, in every moment.
Here in this special corner of my heart, I loved you still.
As you repaired your heart I declared my love in whispers, treasuring every smile, preparing myself should you not find a place for me in your life.
Then in the most unexpected of places, sitting tired in sacks of grain, the air and our clothes still burning from the smell of zonrox from the newly disinfected room across, our peers talking just far off and goats bleating beside us, you told me you loved me, and it was the greatest place on earth. It was also the best day ever, but it is always the best day ever with you.
The memories of us lies in many places.
Let’s make memories in many more.
