Having a hearty lunch and a short nap did not exempt me from dealing with yet again a personal problem. This time, it was my oldest godchild who visited without prior notice.
The hammock swung steadily while I tried to gather my thoughts about anything and everything. It was the most appropriate time to figuratively kill two birds with one stone: rest and sleep.
My aura was probably disturbed when a newly-arrived soul hovered in the vicinity. I sensed the presence even though my eyes were closed.
“What do you want?” I murmured, pretending to be talking while in a slumber.
“As you sleeping, Ninong?” his low tenor voice was on the verge of becoming a baritone. It signaled the transition to adulthood.
“Not anymore,” I quipped, opening my eyes like a vampire awakened by darkness.
“What then?” I was not in the mood for guessing games.
“Nothing,” he replied, a bit shy to share what was on his mind.
“Go, then! I am trying to sleep here.”
He did not move. Instead, he whistled to the tune of My Heart Will Go On.
“That’s good.” I commented. “Continue.”
He stopped momentarily, sure that I would react.
“If you want to say something, go on,” I remarked while I rose to a sitting position.
“Can you write me a love letter? Something simple but original.”
“When do you need it?” I wanted him gone so I could continue my rest.
“Now?” he replied, smiling boyishly to get his request approved. He was ready with the pen and paper before I could ask for them.
For ten minutes, I wrote what I believed was one the best love letters I’ve written. The Tagalog language was so rich with words pertaining to love and loving.
“Here! Read it.”
I expected him to leave me in peace with a much needed appreciation for my hasty but solid writing. I was sure that the girl would be wrapping her arms around my godchild’s neck seconds after reading the letter.
“Ninong, my girl is sixteen, not forty.”
“So? Love is love. No matter what age, that will surely get her heart pounding.”
“Her head aching, you mean,” he sounded insubordinate. “She can’t understand the words. Even I could not. Your Tagalog is too deep.”
“Here’s fifty pesos then,” I said, taking out a bill from my pocket.
“What should I do with this?”
“Treat her to a diner. That’s better than giving her a love letter.”