to keep.

i was staring at my computer screen waiting for the right idea to hit me when i suddenly heard my child speak to me. (hindi ako psycho. pero malapit na...) i suddenly remembered what my friend, Rinka, wrote some time ago on feeling a strong connection to her child. (yep, inexistent, but as she put it, "bugger off.")

i thought i'd share it again with you people. this piece is really beautiful. i was moved to tears when i read it.

- - - - - - - - -
to keep.
by rinka romero

i'm not sure what possessed me. but i felt a strong connection to my child today. (yea yea, yet inexistent, but hey. bugger off.) it just felt so real. in writing this piece i was moved to tears. promises i have made to keep. voila.

i will make you the kind of lunch your friends will ask for.
in the lunchbox of your choice.

we'll take walks.
and talk of all your fleeting, everchanging ambitions.
today, an astronaut.
tomorrow, a basketball player.
the next, a teacher.

and we'll treat each one with reverence.
with solemnity.
as if that's where your life would go from hereon.

i'll listen to you when you tell me about how your day at school went.
i'll take note of all the names of friends you mention in passing.
i hope to make it so you never have to answer to the question
"who's kevin again?"

i'll remember, my darling.
i'll hold on to each name.
and make a memory.
so you feel i want to be a part of your world.
i'll make it easier for you to tell me stories of pranks,
and petty fights,
and who lost to whom at basketball today.

and in the grocery, i'll let you pick something you want.
regardless of the price.
you can have that ridiculously priced spiderman juice tumbler.
or the hotdogs with the freebies.

and some days i'll make you miss class to take you to the beach.
just you and me.
we'll jetski. and kayak.
and make sandcastles like in those sappy hallmark cards.
get toasted in the sun, then come home to your daddy
and laugh hysterically when he asks why we're so dark.
and he'll probably know, but he'll pretend he doesn't.
so it remains our little secret.

i won't force you to wear what you don't want to.
you can wear your cowboy hat to mass, sweetie.
i won't love you less.

and when you're older,
you can pierce your ears, love.
i won't love you less.
wear bandshirts.
grow your hair long.
wear grunge eyeliner, if that helps define who you are.
i won't love you less.

when you get drunk
i'll make sure you're not afraid
to call home and have me pick you up.
i trust you'll know you messed up
without me rambling about the dangers of alcohol overdose.

if you become a musician
you can practice in the garage
i promise not to bark at the drummer
or make you stop even if it's loud and driving me insane.
i will walk in every now and then
to listen to you,
catch your soul in the music that you make
and tell you you are beautiful.
and loved.
and mine. (thank god.)

til then, love, i will sing you periwinkle lullabies
and tell you stories before you go to sleep.
and kiss your eyes.
and tuck you in.
and try to walk back to my room struggling,
not wanting to sleep away from you.

i will hold you tight and make you feel this house is home.
but each night after you've gone to sleep
i will walk away:
practicing the art of letting you go,
everyday rehearsing.
so when you need to become,
i can disengage from this embrace and let you be.

i will not make it hurt for you
to walk away from me when you have to.
and do what you have to do.
and i will not stop telling you
that you are beautiful.
and loved.
and mine.
(thank god.)
- - - - - - - - -

sigh. i miss you, rinka bru!!!