When I was a kid, I didn’t have any childhood toys, save for this length of old rope I carried around in the summer, when I saw myself as a 9 year-old female Indiana Jones. And my loyal teddy bear, who I only really got to spend time with when I was asleep. It was always just books, books, books.
The tex, kisses, Beyblades, jolens, and Batman action figures have all come and gone, but the books remain, even if only in memory. I was never really the type who’d play with Barbie dolls, but I was a very easy kid to please. All it took was a book, thick or thin, and this is the exact reason why I couldn’t fake appreciation whenever I tore apart a fancy package to find Hello Kitty inside or some other girly thing like a glittery pink bag or bracelets.
I take it back. I was a very difficult kid to please, if you didn’t know where my heart was.
It also helps that my parents spoiled me—on books, that is. They’d get me books that I’d feel too intimidated to read, thinking that it wasn’t my level, but I’d get around to reading and loving them anyway. By thirteen, I had already finished Les Miserables. I know, I’m no Richard Feynman, and finishing a Victor Hugo by high-school age is no unimaginable feat…but it’s a milestone for me. My journey in reading didn’t stop there, though, as I continued to pick up more books and explore new genres I’d never read before.
I may not remember all of the things that I’d read, but maybe they’re just somewhere deep in that subconscious, waiting until that near-death Indiana Jones moment to be used ingeniously to save my life. It could happen.
Sa tuwing titingin ako sa mga mata mo
nakikita ko ang sarili ko
mga tigyawat sa aking noo
Lima, anim, pitó, walo.
Huwag lang mabahala,
huwag kang mag-alala.
Hindi naman ako nakikipagtitigan sa’yo.
Tinitingnan ko lamang ang hitsura ko.
Tayô ka muna riyan,
at ako’y mananalamin.
Tumingin ka sa’kin, tingin lang sa akin.
May suklay ka ba?
Pahiram na rin.