The Beginning

Those infuriating words. Those infuriating words have been parading in front of me for years, blurring my vision, scuttling here and there with tiny little feet that screamed to be acknowledged. And they succeed every time. They drummed my ears with silence when I begged them to appear but waged war when I sought for peace, caught me unaware more often than I can possibly hope for and earned me a whole set of detractors who curse and spit at my back for allowing unkempt thoughts to roll out of my tongue carelessly. It was inevitable. I can see those words just as much as I can taste them, like the taste of repulsive heaving after seeing a rotting corpse in a laboratory. Now is the most opportune time to tie them down with the same noose that claimed her life, with the hope that maybe this time, they will be tamed for my sanity’s sake.

This is her love story.

I met her when I was 8 years old at the compound where our family lived. I was then running away from my cousins who were tormenting my puppy named Chowder who was mercilessly being hammered with sticks. Children can be cruel when they want to be. Their sense of curiosity can be a powerful weapon that can make or break someone. And like older people, they too have the privilege to use age as an excuse for their cruelty. I can still remember, how Chowder felt like in my hands. I dared not hug her, in fear of getting blood on my shirt. I simply held her with my outstretched hands while looking back at where my cousins were, who have fortunately turned their attention to my grandmother’s chicken after I snatched their initial target. She was still yelping when I unknowingly swung her body side to side and probably broke a rib while I ran as fast as my short legs can master. For lack of a better place to go, I ended up at the front gate. That was how she found me. Bloodied hands and crying alongside my beloved Chowder.

“Chona?”

I looked up then and saw her face. I could not remember if I saw her before but I was surprised that the stranger knew my name. I also did not recognize her voice but what I could remember on that day was her eyes. Her eyes were highlighted by the letter bars on our gate and they were sad. She smiled then and told me to stop crying, assured me that Chowder will live through the day while patting my head to console me.

(to be continued...)