We live in a small house blessed with two moldy bathrooms, three bedrooms with thin wooden walls and a sala that extends all the way to the kitchen. The house would have been large enough for a family of four but with a family double that size - including Baabaa, when he decides to sleep over - one could dismiss us as tin can dwellers. There is always someone up for half of us are nocturnal and the clutter becomes an eyesore sometimes, I secretly stash some of the refuse at the neighbor's trashcan.
I grew up in a family that has always been inflated with asylum seekers. My mom has seven siblings not to mention her cousins who live in our old house. Many years later, we would open our doors to some students who found our home a refuge. These were my mom's students if you're wondering. Now a generation has passed and we moved to a new house, but our doors remain open. My sister's ex-boyfriend who is now her husband chose to live with us.
Personal space has ceased to become an issue.
Personal space has ceased to become an issue.
But there are times when the brother-in-law must return to his family. He brings along his family to live in the mountains. Even the house helpers need to return to their families too. When transients need to stay elsewhere, we are reminded of who the real dwellers are -
Mom and me.
Christ has already risen, and the people who have left are expected to ask for extension. It means the Lesbian driver won't be around until the middle of the week - if she decides to return, and my sister, her husband and Baby Lenin - who have just left this morning won't be back until next week. With the maid to keep us company, looking after the house would have been a breeze. But my aging mother is left alone in her room most of the time. Needing constant reassurance (with the maid always staying at the neighbor's house) her seclusion leaves me uneasy.
It is just the first night of my vigil and I could already feel that something has been carved within. More than the echo left by an infant's babbling or the occasional quarrel between the young couple, it is the invisible thread of togetherness that just got missing. For I used to have no worries sleeping under stars knowing someone will watch over my back, but now that we're just three in the house, the blanket of darkness becomes my closest fiend.
I will always be a creature of silence, but from now on, never can I lay claim to the distance which now surrounds me.