Mom's birthday

The Internet was bogged down tonight. I guess some cell site was hit by lightning. It started to rain in the afternoon, eased out during the late afternoon, and continued to pour by early evening. I remember hearing a huge boom while in the middle of my afternoon movie, Charlie Wilson's War. It was entirely talk and the boom lifted my booty from where I was. I lifted a book from my overhead shelf, chose the one I've been trying to nail. It was a novel by Edgwick Danticat, a feminist from Haiti, with stories from her native land prior to moving to America. She related the stories from Haiti when it was ravaged by alienating forces which lead them to America. The last section of the book is about her conversion into an American citizen and how her mother keeps bringing her down to her roots. Her voice echoed the millions of Haitian women's voices, transplanted from their native land and nudging their elbows throughout their life to keep them from drowning in the quagmire of American influence.

It was a powerful book. It shines another light to the power of literature. The mighty pen, which I have always admired, proves its worth in the preservation of emotions, thought and the reverence of the living to their dead bloodkin. Powerful and moving. I laid it down to my shelf after I leafed through its final pages.

Then, I picked up the novel In The Memory of Running. Its about an overweight, drunk, middle aged guy coping with the death of his parents after a shocking accident. I only got to the part where he saw his mother lying on the hospital bed; she suffered with broken ribs and a broken hip after a fateful car crash, but alas, no head injuries. I had to put it down after an hour of reading for it forced me to think about my mom.

Her birthday is coming in two days. Mother's day, which is yesterday, was spent with my aunts from Australia. We never had a family thing, which I somehow detest. My mom is too practical for sentimental things like that. She would rather sit at home and knit, than take us out for a family activity. My dad is too passive to comment, which I also hate. The thought of me leaving in less than a month never stirred them from where they usually sit in our house.

I have the habit of using travel mementos as bookmarks. I usually pull one from a stack of old Metrocards, museum tickets, Broadway tickets and little thingamajigs from my highschool friends. For this book, I pulled out an old ticket for a oceanarium in Pattaya beach. A small piece of paper from our "family" trip to Bangkok 6 years ago. It was supposed to be a family trip but my dad, as usual, chose to stay at home. So, I was off with my brother and sister, and of course, mom. My mom will never pass on trips like that. It was a memorable trip, nevertheless; it was my first time to go out with my siblings, and the first time I realized that I can never travel with my mom.

We were too alike in ways, but on spending. She was always tight-fisted about money and we grew up knowing that we are so poor. In a way, we were and still I believe, we are; but I know there are a million kids out there sleeping with an empty belly. It is suffice to say that we live life in a pretty much basic way. We never had the luxuries in life that most of my friends have accustomed to have. My siblings and I learned when we are kids that needs will always be a priority; the wants should be set aside or never be realized at all. Somehow, during my adolescent years, I realized that the the 'wants' are sometimes needed in order for one to be happy, but to my mom, everything is just mind set. I guess that's how she wants to raise her kids.

So, we went to Bangkok and ended up fighting over how costly one dinner was. I was really infuriated on how cheap she would get. I stormed out of the restaurant and looked for a place to eat and get a drink. I was so pissed. But it was just another fight between us, the next day we were talking in a civil way that will not upset others. Anyway, it had been like that for several years. We fight, take three days off talking and finally opens up when our heads cool down. It is such a bad way to treat a mother, I know, but it happens all the time. After my experience in America, I can never throw tantrums around her anymore. I have learned a lot of values after spending several months without family in the States; realizing that life is too short for unnecessary rifts is just one of them. And besides, she never left me. She was always there as I carry out my misconstrued professional dream.

For two years, I've been forsaking her birthday, since it coincides with the Pahiyas festival in Lucban. Too lame for a reason, but the gustatory excitement in Lucban is too tempting to look the other way. My non-sentimental mom would usually have some guests in the house to celebrate her birthday with and it is another thing that I don't approve. The clash of values is too much for me. So, we've been spending her birthday apart from each other. It worked during the previous years and we both had the time of our lives during her birthday. Concentiously, I would give her presents just to rub a bit of the guilt off. But, life is more than presents, nor money, as I have learned from my own tribulations. Family matters most.

For this year, I find it hard to say no to keep her company on her birthday. It will be my last Lucban fiesta before I sail off and for that matter, her last birthday that I will be here in the country. I cannot tell if I will be here on the next. Sadly, I have to think this off after tomorrow and it is just painful as it is. She'll be turning 60 in two days and these books I have been reading started to let me rethink once again. Both books pondered on the worth of being the woman of the house, the matriarch who gave birth and a largely painful loss to one's spirit once it is gone. She is more than my mom, actually; she's my twin sister. I think we're part of a single soul: I am hers and she is mine. After writing this, I made it clear that I can clearly lose myself for a very special day. Happy birthday, mom.

POSTSCRIPT: My mom's birthday was May 15. I wrote this while thinking if I should go to Lucban. I didn't. Cheers for that. I am writing this because it's a momentuous event for me.