Twenty years ago at age twenty, I laid my eyes on my first born.
For the first two weeks of his life, I rarely got to hold him in my arms. We were both too sick and then I had to leave him at the hospital. Bringing him home with a clean bill of health was glorious, to say the least.
He started school at the age of three in a DSWD Day Care Center. He disliked being left alone in the nipa hut center. Despite the fact that from its window, our house is clearly visible. Experiment failed.
The following year, I brought him to a Day Care Center managed by nuns. This time around, his younger brother who was only two years old, came along.
When he couldn’t see me by the door or at the window, his tears will start to pool around his eyes. When his tears fall and his younger brother sees it, his tears also fall. Another experiment failed.
At five years of age, it was formal school time. No more experiments. It was mostly a year of tears. It was him I get to spend more time standing or sitting by the door of his classroom. There are times I forget to peek in on his three year old brother who I also formally enrolled simply because I did not want his tears to distract his classmates.
But there was a big turn around come grade one. His class adviser complained of his talkativeness! I wasn’t needed anymore.
High school. Seven years in Guagua and yet he chose to attend a school in Angeles City.
College. Finish it, man. Come on. XD
Twenty. My son. My eldest.
Time really flies.
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