Yesterday, we had some sort of a double celebration. One was the super typhoon’s dissipation into a less destructive natural phenomena, which proved a good sign because the supply of power was restored. The other being the eleventh birthday of one of my godchildren.
I planned to go online but the invitation to attend a small gathering was too difficult to refuse. My godson, who often riled me with his curious questions came in person.
“It’s my day, Ninong,” he boasted, parking his bike beside the fence, where I knelt removing grasses in between plants. “Come to the house because there will be singing.”
When he referred to singing, the image of a video karaoke machine automatically crossed my mind. In a nation of singing sensation wannabes, I could not blame even the locals who might be having illusions of making it big someday.
“Right!” I agreed. “I will come once I hear someone wailing, er, singing.”
“Don’t forget, Ninong,” he said as an afterthought. “To bring my gift.”
Holy cow! I went to the town center the other day but the idea of gifts was never a consideration. I was more concentrated on ordinary provisions.
“Of course,” I said. I had to find an empty envelope. I was sure he would accept cash: he was a frequent visitor of the bank.
When I came over, I was offered a plate even before I could say my greetings. I did not take into account that it was already lunch.
It was indeed a family get together because I was the sore thumb, so to speak. Aunts, uncles and cousins were almost complete.
I was not considering singing on an empty stomach. The food was not only great, it was plentiful. No one would go home without the traditional doggy bag.
Listening to the concert, I began to prepare myself for some ribbing which was more or less a practice during this type of celebration. One should choose the appropriate song to sing or else the comments afterward could be bruising to one’s ego.
“Ninong, it’s your turn.”
What? I was still chewing a small chunk of the chicken adobo when my godson called me out using the microphone.
“I have not chosen my song,” I waved him to select someone else. “Perhaps, a bit later.”
“I chose one for you,” he grinned. “I heard you singing this often.”
There was already clapping, egging me to take center stage.
I was on the spot. Even though I planned to excuse myself later on when they were all fighting it out for their opportunity to shine, I was not ready to shock them with my moves. 🙂
Well, you guessed correctly. I made a fool of myself (laughs), singing halfheartedly a perky song.
When the machine’s verdict was shown, everyone looked confused (or was it utter disappointment?).
It was awesome. I received a hundred. 😀