I grew up having friends with several siblings. My closest friends have adopted me as one of their own and friends of sisters or aunts and uncles have been acquired using a familiar name that connects everyone to the lineage. Even in Auckland, the yearning for family is found in the comforts of friends sharing friends and friends sharing relatives.
I am the eldest of 3. I have a brother and a sister who have decided to make the US their home.
Growing up, I would say I had more unforgettable memories with my sister as we share the same room for several years in Cebu and in Manila. She is 7 years younger than me but wiser beyond my years. She is our math wizard and she has a job that I wish I had and a lifestyle that I envy. Every time I needed advise or decisions have to be made, I run to her. I don’t necessarily follow her advise (hehehe) but I enjoy listening to her point of views. She is a sweet sister when she wants to (when she brings me doughnuts at work without any occasion) but she is worst when she is mean (when she makes nasty remarks about my hair). She can change from sweet to mean in seconds and yet I adore her still. I will never stop being proud of her and what she has accomplished. Atenistang mulat she is.
Oh but most of the times I hate her too when I think of her teasing me about my blood type and how she compares me with the #1 Surikbot in the family. We had photos taken in different years having the same pose and she kept it to spite me & show how much weight I have put on. The first picture was taken when she was about 9 years old, she was shorter than me. The latest one, I was shorter than her and several pounds heavier. I miss her a lot and I wish we see each other again because it is so much fun getting lost with her.
We grew up with funny names (thanks to my ever creative mother), Boging, Teloy… and yet Popoy sticks. Popoy is Paul Vincent, my brother. We never had the chance to be close. Blame it to my teenage neurotic episodes or sibbling rivalry perhaps or the reality that we are opposites (he being an extrovert while I prefer the comfort of my room and my own space). We were born 2 years apart and yet everyone thinks he is older. My friends hated his friends. His friends hated my friends. We never agreed on anything. The only time I pitied him was when he got bruised all over due to a fraternity initiation slash hazing. There is not much we could write or talk to each other about without me feeling awkward because I feel I have never been a sister to him growing up. But I cheered for him everytime he plays basketball, tennis, pingpong, volleyball and what not. I enjoy hearing girls having a crush on him. eiiiewww. I check out his girlfriends head to toe. I check out his friends too. I detest his ugly choices of girls and yap about it no end. I love her Keiko like my own. I include him in my prayers and that, I guess makes me her sister in a different kind of way. I may not miss him that much but I am happy to hear news about him from mom.
Funny how we build network of friends and relatives from other people’s family and yet we have not touched base with our own. It’s never too late to make new memories. Let me start by wishing for a paid vacation to MA. Santa? are you hearing me?
