An Open Note for Nanay by China De Vera

Nanay believes that among her three girls, I’m the only one who haven’t reached my quota for

hard core trials. She is a firm believer that anyone should be like a pot place on fire. To have

that resilient quality you should at least endured life difficulties. On her account, I haven’t reach

it yet. I should, she said while removing the dirt on our electric fan using couple of cotton buds.

Growing up, I saw her come with a bag of sorted pasalubongs and go with her backpack, her

work is as hectic as the weather man’s job in an event of typhoon. When the earth is shaking,

volcano acting up or typhoon sharpened the coconut trees, Nanay is one step out of the door.

Before Go Bag is introduced, she already had that. She leaves and live to serve the community

in a brink of nothingness. Embracing activism, she knows the power of collective, the

community. That being a humanitarian worker, one should never forget the survivor’s dignity

and resilience to bounce back and rebuild their communities. After Tatay died, her profession

allowed us to live relatively comfortable. On a random day, after she received her senior card,

she confessed to us, how sometimes she wished that her capacity to provide now is the same

when Tatay is alive. Maybe he could have lived longer; joining in our travel and instead of crisis,

experiencing other comforts that somehow will put him away from triggers. It was rare to hear

her younger self talk about how painful her everyday was while Tatay is sick. I guess she don’t

really consider them as “boxful of pains” and maybe Tatay became her anchor and compass in

threading a dystopic type of society while hoping and struggling for a humane one. She is a

closet romantic: silently reading poems but not writing one, arranging flowers on vase and

staring at them and Tatay as her first and last love. She is used to traveling, watching movies,

eating and sleeping alone. It don’t bother her if the house is a mess or you forgot to greet her

on her birthday, she understands how busy life gets. What really tick her off is not packing well

for travels or not being prepared. She transformed into a jumping jellybean when we are in

transit. She walks fast and eats fast. Lately, she forgets how aging can affect agility. I’m afraid

that sickness will stop her from traveling-- always asking her to eat right and sleep well. Before I

left the house for another travel, I whispered while she sleeps, how my sanity almost embraced

the numbing snow while I recall how I unlearn to stop my tears when someone died. If I haven’t

reach my quota yet, can she please be there and navigate with me when it arrives? I will pack

her favorite daster and wine glass.