Monday, June 28, 2010

to our langging-pangging

Dear Eve,

When you’re big enough to read this, I’m sure you won’t remember me as that Aunt who visited you when you were still one year old. By then, you’ll probably know me as that crazy Aunt who unceremoniously pops up for dinner without warning, carrying two bottles of wine – one for the rest of the family and another one for herself.

So, yeah, you probably won’t remember me as that Aunt whom, to the surprise of everyone in the house, you consented to be cuddled, and that you fell asleep in her arms the first day you meet.

What a beautiful experience that was, Eve. That day, your Dad and Kuyas fetched me at the airport, which was a good one-hour drive away from your home. I felt both excited and anxious to meet you; excited because this would be our first meeting, and anxious because I had a feeling you won’t like me at all.

You see, your Kuya Brus didn’t like me the first time we met, so I was pretty sure you’d be the same, too. Even your Mom warned me beforehand: when her friends tried to hold you? You had a hissy fit, and would not let them come touch you.

When I arrived, you had just woken up from your nap, and traces of sleep had not yet left your eyes. I remember you stared intently at me for a good second or two, your brows furrowed, as if you were thinking: “Now who is this girl, and what is she doing in my house?”

So imagine all our surprise when, a few minutes later, I ventured approaching you, holding out my arms, and you JUST WILLINGLY GAVE YOURSELF TO ME. Your mom and I were both so shocked we just stared at each other, and I did not dare move, for fear that you might realize what you just did, and then start wailing. Thankfully, you didn’t.

You even fell asleep while you were in my arms.

And even though, minutes later, my arms were literally screaming with pain (because you’re really heavy for a little lady), I sucked it up and held you as long as I could.

I know our time together was not enough (well, it may never be enough), but seeing you with your brothers, I just know you’ll do fine. You’re our only baby girl, and, they may seem to be overprotective of you, but that’s just because they love you. (I know. The men in our family have a funny way of showing their love, sometimes.)

Just the mere sight of you seeming to be in pain, just the mere peep of your cry, or that hiccupy thing you do that tells us you are about to cry, your Dad and Kuyas go and trip over themselves trying to comfort you.

I know I can’t ever hope to be your best friend, Eve, because hello? WE’RE HALF A WORLD AWAY. But know that whenever you need someone to talk to, or someone to convince your brothers to leave you alone – hey, I’m always here. :)

We love you, langging-pangging.


radj said...

You have a better chance of being remembered. She was only a week old when I was there.

I wonder if she even remembers some deep voiced, tall and dark gitarista that sang her a short song on an out of tune guitar while she was asleep.

Hay, Eve.