A note from Zivan (in Heyward) to me and Naya:
“I remember … having a world war against 6-year-old Nessa in Hong Kong and laying out all our toys in the hallway so that these toys could annihilate each other one by one. Turn by turn, one of my toys would topple one of hers, and then vice versa. By the time we were done, we were friends again.”
“I remember … bringing a buck-toothed 5-year-old Naya to ballet school on the bicycle with the basket up front. We would wedge the cushioned piece of wood on the middle bar section so she could sit there. And I would peddle furiously, trying to get back up the slope towards Lazcano. Sometimes we would laugh because of the effort.”
Response from Naya (in Toronto) to Zivan:
“I remember … you encouraging Mama to buy me a volleyball and volleyball pin when I was 11, because I was failing PE, then teaching me to bounce it off against the garage wall, patiently, even if I kept on hitting the lightbulb, pathetically.”
Response from Nessa (in Manila) to Zivan:
“And I remember … waking up in the middle of the night, hearing you fall with a thud to the floor from the top bunk of our double decker. You cried out loud and I felt so much pain for you I cried a little too. And before we would sleep when we were little we would recite lines to each other that went, ‘Good night, sleep tight, wake up bright, in the morning light, to do what’s right, with all your might’ …”
We write each other, my brother and sister and I, a little at a time. Sometimes a lot at a time. I have long letters from my sister that make me laugh out loud with her cool advice and crazy anecdotes. And long, long letters from my brother filled with so much faith and love, I cry whenever I read them.
My sister is coming into her own in a foreign land, growing in her craft and in experience. My brother is bursting with hope and optimism and happiness for the first time in years because he is finally home with Agnes.
He sends graphic novels for us to read, she sends me funny songs that describe episodes of my life, and I send them pictures of the folks … along with all my angst …
Zivan recently made me realize blogging is no substitute for building and nurturing relationships in person. Naya helped me understand what dating in the new millennium was like and why I shouldn’t downgrade my expectations of men because there are still good ones to be had out there. They are far away but it’s as if they’re right here with me, knowing more about my life now than my life back when we were all still home.
I no longer feel like an only child in Manila, awkward around parents I hadn’t really talked to in years. We are all talking now, in one way or another.
My family is the ultimate blessing in a life that is already so blessed.
Yesterday, I taught Mama how to email and surf the net. Hoping she might eventually become part of the circle of correspondences. She opened my brother’s blog, shocked to immediately discover he had almost been killed along a California highway in January. She then proceeded to post her very first comment.
And for the weekend at least, after leading our impromptu computer training session instead of mindlessly malling … I couldn’t help but feel happy.
************
P.S. =
Does one’s name affect one’s destiny? I’ve always wondered …
Our folks picked unique names for us because they wanted us to be “special” (aka weirdos). And we so are!
Zivan’s whole name is Lionel Zivan. Lionel means little lion, Zivan means lively. Our surname means valley of the lions. So he’s the lively little lion in the valley of the lions. And so he is … lively, that is. Full of life and gifts … he is a composer, guitarist, keyboard player, drummer, singer, visual artist, comic book writer, public speaker, teacher, all round techie guy, unofficial family pastor. My kuya’s the epitome of a Renaissance Man.
Naya’s whole name is Yavanna. She was named after the goddess of the harvest in Tolkien’s Silmarillion, a history of Middle Earth. And so she has already harvested two Palanca awards and is considered by many to be one of the great young Filipino poets of our generation. Also a thinker, a drinker, a dancer, a lover and now – allegedly – an up and coming cook.
My whole name is Ianessa, it’s Greek for gentle ruler. Walang kokontra! Mabait ako! Hahaha!
Those are awesome, awesome pics. Ang kenkoy natin! Bwahaha. I can’t wait to see you soon. *HUG*
And yes, I do believe words/names have power and influence over what is named. Can you imagine if Mama had followed through on her original plan to name me Ravenna??!
You would have become a darker character than you already are! Hahaha! But forgive me, I was all for Ravenna when I was an 8-year old helping Ma mull over names for the unborn you. It’s actually a beautiful name and a beautiful place in Italy I hope to visit someday.
It’s going to be some years before we get to have another picture taken together. Gosh, why did I never find these things important before? If I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing … except to document all our best moments. Sigh.
I swear you have found the fountain of youth and you’re not telling. You look the same in all those pictures! You don’t seem like you have grown old in any way! No fair.
Nes, muntik ka na pala magkaron ng sister na kalaban ng mga Mulawin. just kidding! hi, naya!
Karen, oddly enough, I read somewhere that Capricorn women look like wrinkled prunes when they’re toddlers and fresh faced young women in their old age. It has something to do with our being ruled by the planet Saturn, which represents time …
Truth is, I have really ugly baby pics! So maybe I’ll be a young looking lola. Am keeping my fingers crossed.
Hot Moma Nessa!
gentle ruler….hmmmm!
blog mo ito. sige na nga. hahaha!
Lovely, lovely pics! I felt going back through time myself. I can still remember Naya in her pink ballet outfit, her hair in a bun, Lionel in his duran duran 80’s get up with matching necklace (Blowing Fishes ba yung band niya nun?), your mom sewing something, your dad on the couch checking piles of exam papers, and baduy me a constant visitor during those summer afternoons. You were the coolest (most cultured!) family I know and I’m grateful for your opening your doors for me. Hay, how time truly flies…but family is one constant thing. Yeah, nix the mindless shopping, always go for family weekends, tita nessa. =)
(can’t resist) you know, i can’t imagine you playing as a kid. maybe you made a schedule and called it “playing house.” sis will do this at this hour. brother will do this. then you will all do this. by 6PM, the house and kids would be clean before parents get home.
gilda, i remember your pressing the doorbell on those afternoons with your hair in a ponytail, and my dad would yell “ging ging” with such glee when he saw you come in, as if you were another of his daughters! and we would walk for miles and miles because we thought we were overweight (we weren’t) but then we’d go buy ice cream sundaes together anyway. those were lovely summers …
and jj, haha your image of my childhood’s totally wrong. i played with little robots and shopped in the boy’s department, i was always dirty from climbing the roof to stare up at the clouds, i walked out of the house during thunderstorms to feel the rain on me, had lizards crawling from under the piles of mess on my desk, drank a lot of alcohol at 12 and had much older boyfriends at 14. was never a goody goody.
gilda can vouch for me!
Kakainis! Nasa trabaho ako, di ako maka-emote. Pero naluluha-luha pa rin ako sa cubicle.
Ganda ng entry mo. Daya mo… gagamitin ko rin sana sa blog ko yun!
It’s nice to have my sisters back, even if via long distance.
Better late than never di ba, “Ate?”
Kuya, kakatuwa ka!
Tsaka pwede mo pa ring gamitin sa ‘yong blog.
You’ll have a more spiritual take on the subject for sure!
And you know what? I just realized God does hear me! Except He was trying to say I wasn’t meant to get what I was asking for, because there’s something else (and someone else) truly meant for me in the future. And now’s not the time to go looking for a rebound.
Haha, I’m beginning to see the light in so many ways… will tell all in an upcoming letter …
What a cool set of siblings. I’ve been scanning old pics myself for the past year or so and emailing them to family with my own sentimental reminiscing. They’re politely acknowledged but no one reminisces back. But I won’t stop; maybe they’ll catch the sentimental fever one of these days and realize memories should be shared before they’re lost.
oh haowei! na-miss naman kita. saw you on wish ko lang as a lolo and realized we’re truly getting older and makulit about things and much more sentimental than we used to be. i have great memories of you and your first years in television that i will always, always treasure.
hope your folks and siblings come to realize what a blessing you are to serve as the family historian. i’m sure the dates on those pics and the captions you stick on them are as accurate as all the chargens on your docus! hehe.
I have wonderful memories of those years as well, including the shock and awe of being in a totally different medium in my mid 30s. But I’m afraid I’m losing the small details that define so much of our past. And sometimes not so small. My high school classmate had to remind me of a supposedly memorable night-time trip we made that had completely slipped from my mind.
Maybe that’s another reason why I appreciate all these years in TV. There is video that captured so many moments that I shared with friends and just people I should remember.
The lolo experience was quaint but at my age it didn’t have to remind me of the march of time. The older one gets the more friends one loses. Two of my best friends from my youth are gone, as well older friends whom I thought I could still talk to as I wallow in middle age.
Makes me treasure the present and the fact that I may look older but I often feel I’m still discovering something new every day.