Sunday, February 20, 2005

Chayen

The make-up washed off but my hair still feels sticky with hairspray even after numerous washings. I can now breathe more easily as my midsection is free of the constricting one-strap gown. I performed my duties fairly well as the maid of honor. I did not trip while walking down the aisle, remembered to have the contract signed.

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Last night I slept on the same bed (in the hotel) as Chayen, my youngest sister. The last time I slept next to her was four years ago when we visited our sisters in the States. Actually, I grew up with her as my roommate (at least from age 10 up. I spent most of my childhood in the province—near the beach and far from my family). Chayen and I shared the same room, double-deck, cabinet, and sometimes, even the same pambahay. As adults, we also shared stuff with each other—bags, shoes, shirts, name it, we shared it (and fought about it. Haha. I/she: “Why did you use my shirt? I was gonna wear that today!” “Where’s my bag?”)

Today, she gained a new roommate, her mild-mannered husband Regie. Life will be different for her from this day forward. In addition to the roles she play as a daughter and sister, she will now play a more major role: somebody’s wife. Wife—my little sister is all grown up now. Time flies so fast.

The contrasting emotions—happiness and sadness—flip-flop in my heart. Happy that she’ll be starting a new home; sad that she’ll be leaving our house. Have I come to grips with the fact that I will be seeing less of her?

Chayen just calls me “Beng” but that doesn’t hinder me from acting like her “Ate Beng.” Though my love for her is veiled under my protective-to-a-fault, disciplinarian behavior, I know that she knows how much I care about her. Yes, she knows me well enough to know that. (Hey sis, if by divine intervention you are led to this site, I hope you'll agree with that last statement!)

Chayen: Daughter, sister, wife, and hopefully later on, mother. But even after many of her July 4 birthdays have passed, even when she’s humped and wrinkled sixty, I will look at her with the same older-sister eyes. I will still see her as the cute, chubby girl, the center of everyone’s attention. As for me, I will always be her “Ate Beng”—critic, friend, supporter, mall-and-other-places companion. . . former roommate.

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