When the wish fits the pure heart of the child…
December 19, 2013 Leave a comment
Why am I not surprised when — at age 42, my mental age is just 16!
Well, according to yourmentalage.com, anyway; however, not that I fully subscribe to its ‘findings’, but I somewhat agree. Call it the perpetual child in me. You see, one of the most evident traits that I have continuously nourished is my “childlike” attitude toward life. It goes down from my childhood, I guess. I am sort of the eldest in a brood of five then. Christmas was not much an occasion for us because we really did not have more than enough, and my mother did not want to make it as a marked event in our young hearts, for she knew we can never have the things most children have. My father was working and studying at the same time and we were just getting by with whatever was left of his earnings. One thing though that my mother never failed to do was to tell us that Christmas was really a celebration of thanksgiving…. thanksgiving for the food on our table… for the shelter over our heads and the clothing on our backs… for a loving family… and, most especially, for our Mother and Father.
I have never really questioned why we never have what other kids have. What got stuck on my mind was that we were thankful. But as I was growing older and became more accustomed to being with friends, which at an early age seemed to be very natural for me, a name became an obsession: SANTA CLAUS!!!
My schoolmates talked about him as if he’s real. Whenever our teacher at school showed his picture on a card or sang those Santa songs, I did not dare ask my mother whether it’s true or not, because somehow, someway, she might just convince me that he is not real. I wanted so much to believe that there is a Santa Claus; simply because, the child in me wanted to believe that if you are good and nice, Santa will give you the gift you ask for.
But Santa Claus became real only through my being him to my siblings. I could still remember vividly when Kimmy was three and I, together with Kuya Texx, Bing-Bing, Bulilit and Balot, bought her a walkie-talkie (we pooled our savings from our daily allowances) with just one unit wrapped — the other used by us interchangeably, play-acting Santa and the elves. Boy, that was really fun! I could just go over and over that moment and still laugh-cry at the thought.
I am too old now to be believing in a fat, bearded man in a red suit; yet, deep down in me, the belief that Santa DOES exist was never extinguished. Every now and then, I would play around with the thought that one day, if I do good — if I really, really behaved — I would make it in the Nice List and Santa Claus will come and whisper in my ears that my gift — the one I have always asked for — will be there on Christmas day.
However, my wishes changed every year. I waited for them to come true but to no avail… maybe, I had Santa confused as to what I really wanted…
When I was 16, I got a girlfriend, but there was no passion. So I wished for a passionate girl with a zest for life.
In college, I dated a passionate gal, but she was too emotional. Everything was an emergency, she was a drama queen, cried all the time and even threatened suicide. So I wished for someone more stable — up there.
When I was 23, I found a very stable girl — emotionally, psychologically, and [wink] financially… but she was soooo boring. She was totally predictable and never got excited about anything. Life became so dull that I wished for a girl with some excitement.
When I was 25, I found an exciting woman, but I couldn’t keep up with her. She rushed from one party to another, never settling on anything. She did crazy, impetuous things and flirted with everyone she met. She made me miserable as often as happy. She was great fun initially and very energetic, but directionless. So I wished for a goal-oriented woman — someone with ambition.
On my 30th Christmas, I found a smart, ambitious lady with her feet planted firmly on the ground… so we moved in together. Three years later, I came home to an empty apartment. She was so ambitious that she dumped me and took everything I owned.
… for quite sometime now, one wish persisted in my adult life though.
I have always prayed for someone to grow old with. Someone whom I can pour my deepest emotions with. Someone who can make me laugh aloud and do silly things and not feel embarassed. Someone who will support my love for work, and more importantly, my love for adventure! A woman who has also experienced life, had tried living outside the box — who can cry at her mistakes and triumphs, someone who can stand on her own and be her own. Say her own piece… and make things happen… Someone whom I can tell my stories, my exploits and bloopers, my escapades — good and bad.
And for me to live life to the fullest without thinking of rules or limits, I can only do so much. I wanted someone who can live life for me… someone who can create an albumful of tales and anecdotes — all painted through words and snapshots.
Hush now… let me tell you a secret that was just recently revealed to me. Santa Claus DOES exist! In fact, he already gave me what I have always asked for… not on Christmas…. but even months before it! He gave me my gift not at age three nor at thirty-three; but when the wish fits the pure heart of the child… his perfect gift came — wrapped in shrieks of laughter and giggles, of sweet whispers and warm hugs… and feather kisses. Now I know what perfect time means. It is finding the RIGHT WOMAN at the RIGHT MOMENT.
Thank you Santa for leading me to her… for making our paths cross anew… for teaching me to look not with my eyes alone. Thank you.
Now, all I need to do is unwrap my gift and tell her she’s the one I’ve been waiting for…