Parenting Memories Part II

My Pen Mates,

My first memory of my mother was of her pressing a shiny half-peso coin onto my palm. This was to keep me still on her lap while she said her morning prayer on the floor of her bedroom. It was a familiar scene; I can still see in my minds eye how she's turned towards one corner of the room, facing a shellacked cabinet that's built into the corner. She has a prayer book which I now realize she never really read, having memorized the prayers therein. The coin was to distract me from disturbing her morning ritual, and follow the prayers as she said it out loud. The coin was shiny and uncommon, as a half peso was midsized between a quarter and a peso coin. It served its purpose as I recall.

She was a careful woman, my Mom. She was meticulous when it came to clothes, food, and money. When I was old enough to count, she used to let me recount paper money before putting it away. She made me count turns and twirls while she embroidered place mats, furniture covers, and curtains using white yarn. She never seemed to hurry although she worked fast.

When my youngest brother was born, I rode in the back of our red Volkswagen Beetle next to her on the way home from the hospital. He was swathed in a light blue cotton cloth and my Mom cradled him in her arms. She looked tired but content and she kept on looking my way and smiled. Around this time, I started sleeping in the hallway leading to the living room right outside the bedroom. Our house had another bedroom towards the back, but we never slept in it. My Mom, sister, and two brothers slept in the big room, and my Dad and I slept on a big cushion near its entrance. Come morning, my Dad rises early, leaving me to roll up the foam mattress and store it upright in one corner of the room.

My Mom always dressed well. She liked bright colored, floral patterns and even her house clothes (dusters) were stunning to see. She is well poised and took pride in her good posture which she always admonished us to emulate (rightfully saying that it exudes confidence).

She was a sharp business woman. She sees business opportunities where others see challenges. On one particular occasion, she came back rushing from the next town with my Dad. It comes to mind because it was around noon and the household usually don't expect to see them back from their business trips until late afternoon/early evening. It turns out that a shipment of white leghorn chicken (from our backyard chicken coop) they were to sell all perished having suffocated in the trunk of the car! They wanted to make sure that the meat doesn't spoil so they rushed back to have the poultry dressed, cleaned, cut, and refrigerated. You should have seen the rush to boil water to use in dressing those chickens!

While constantly busy, she kept everyone close and monitored. She was a worrier--I guess like every Mom-- and the look on her face as she waited on the veranda for my father to arrive from work during rainy days made my youthful mind worry as well. Because road conditions quickly deteriorated in our provincial roads during storms, it truly was not uncommon to be stranded in any of the isolated stretches of roadway coming home. This is part of the reason why my parents determined to work together to remove that anxiety of "what ifs".

Again, looking back, I saw how real the risks were. On one late trip from the city going home, we were caught in a fast moving rainstorm; the skies grew dark quickly and the early evening turned very dark and frightening. About five kilometers from home, a wooden bridge was blocked by fallen bamboo. Several thick, green trunks straddled both side barriers, menacing as they were whipped by the winds and looming in the headlights. My father had to get out of the car in the pouring rain to push them to the side to gain passage. I can see the silhouette of my Mom making signs of the cross as her lips moved almost imperceptibly in a nervous prayer. As I got older, I took this as strong justification for my parents to work together. They did not want to have to worry about each other's welfare over the worries of making a living.

Over the years, my mother demonstrated a well developed defense mechanism against life's twists and turns. She had God, her family, and herself in sharp perspective. Church was an integral part of my family's upbringing. First mass was how we started Sundays (we can catch other masses before lunch time or even in the afternoon but my father wanted to get the earliest one because there was no choir to extend the service;). While not a natural born teacher, she lived by example and trusted schools to conduct the business of education in a formatted setting. Growing up, I had no consciousness of ever wanting anything other than what she gave me to use or eat. In this regard, I don't think I inherited her materialism. For that matter, I don't even have her work ethic. However, her sense of family and protectiveness are traits I share. Like her, I have no desire to engage or participate in social events unless it involves the family. While considered very sociable and gracious hosts, our public personalities serve to advance our business interests and networks. Our one true joy is quality time with the family and sharing stories of what was and will be.

Her self confidence spills into her physical strength. She can walk blocks in high heels and never complain; she's always perfectly coiffed, and looked people in the eye when she talked. She speaks plain so was hardly ever misunderstood, and to my knowledge, never made a promise she didn't keep. Part of that promise was to love me, my father, and my siblings with everything God has given her. I love her so much....

Mon