Tutay

I retreated myself in an obscure corner - away from the unfamiliar faces, the even more unfamiliar dialect chatter, the dried watermelon seeds, cupcakes, coffee, and stacks of non-biodegradable styrofoam cups.

In solitude, I hoped to distance myself from the past few hours that have magnified seemingly into years and weighed down on me like a necessary burden.

The little girl sought me. Maybe she was bored with her company. Or maybe she felt sorry for me, sitting by myself in the far bench. Whatever her reason is, she was not put off by my seeming aloofness.

She offered me a Zest-O, which I declined. She proceeded to insert the straw into the previously offered juice, apparently claiming it for herself. She crossed her legs, indian-fashioned. We talked for a while - the only lengthy and significant conversation I've had during the day.

Her name is Haira Jean. Or Tutay. She explained the uncommon nickname even before I got the chance to ask. She only knows that her aunts started calling her that when she was four and it stuck. I considered maybe it could be a child's mispronunciation of "Tatay". Amazingly, we share the same surname. Her father is a distant cousin of sorts. Another one of those relatives I do not know about. Her siblings are also initialled HJ. Hazel Joy. Harvey John. And other HJ's.

She is in the second grade; has been ranked top five both in the first and second grading period. The third grading period results has not come out yet, so she doesn't know yet how she fared. She wears a key around her neck. She tells me it's their classroom key and she was the assigned keeper because she comes to school early at 630 am everyday.

On February 21, she will receive the sacrament of confirmation and she asks if I'll be in town by then. "Kumpil" are still big deals in the small predominantly Catholic towns. She's part of the children choir and participates in the church activities for kids.

She was not satisfied in just answering all my questions. She wanted to ask me some herself.

How old am I? Twenty-seven.

Am I married? No.

Do I live nearby? I used to, but I now live in Manila.

How did I get there? I took a bus and two jeepney rides.

How much was the fare? Offhandedly, around P120. (When she asked for each ride's specific fare, she told me it was actually P119.)

Do I have any brothers or sisters? Yes, but they weren't around.

Where's my mother? She died last October.

Her eyes widened in apparent concern. She glanced at the well-lit focus point in the center of the room - the flowers, the candles, the framed photograph of my late father on top of the ornately carved hardwood casket. "Ibig sabihin wala ka nang magulang?"

The realization washed over me. I nodded and told her, "Wala na."

Suddenly, she did not seem like the tiny eight year old talking to the adult. She was the good-hearted person sympathizing with an orphan.

I close my eyes, seeking rest from the past few months that have magnified seemingly into years and weighed down on me like a necessary burden

Look Away

I went to see an ophthalmologist yesterday to have my eyes checked. I've been having frequent headaches lately, concentrated around my eyes and forehead. When asked to describe what kind of pain, I tell them it's like having a constant head rush - the dizziness when you stand up too fast. Or the wooziness of laughing too hard. The pain is bad enough to make me miss last Friday's work.

Actually, I didn't want to see a doctor. But my Kuya made me promise to go. And I'd feel so guilty to break a promise, even one made over YM. He's been a little paranoid over my health, and of my sister's. Maybe it's because the three of us are living so far from each other and there's no one else looking out for us, but ourselves. On a somewhat related note - when I donated blood a couple of weeks back, I was asked to fill out a form of personal data. One of the required entries was the "in-case-of-emergency" contact person. And I literally had to stop and think for a while. Hmmm, tough one. I ended up texting Luz, my friend and roommate, if it was ok with her if I wrote her as my ICE. She said it was and so I did.

It was kinda weird, kinda sad. But it was real life. It was such a responsibility to be someone's ICE. Especially to one with propensity for accidents such as myself. Family members are supposed to be there for that, but I didn't have the luxury of that option. Although it is true that friends are the family you choose - or what life chooses for you. And so you just deal.

Anyway, back at my eye checkup. The doctor gave me a few pointers on how to relieve the headaches. Apparently, my eyes were fine. Although I wear corrective glasses, I can still actually do ok without them. So here are some of the tips, in case they may be of help to you:

1) Increase water intake. I usually get seven or eight tumblers during the day. I have to try for ten or more.

2) Sit a little farther from the computer screen and have it situated diagonally. Same goes for reading books. As the doctor have told me in an unsolicited (but appreciated) crash course on optic muscles, we strain our eyes more if we look at things more closely. Keeping the muscle tense for a very long period of time causes headaches and so you need to relax it by doing number (3).

3) For every ten minutes of work, spend a minute looking at something 20 feet away. "A full minute?" I asked. Yes. So mentally, I computed that would be 6 minutes per hour * 7.5 work hours a day. Forty-five minutes of just looking away in a manday. Huh.

4) Avoid stress. When asked whether work has been stressful lately, I said, "No, not particularly." But I wondered whether we have the same gauge of a stressful day.

5) You could always take painkillers. But the thing is, I don't like painkillers. As much as possible, I don't take them and just bear the pain. So my friends know that if I reach for Ibuprofen or Mefenamic Acid - pain is already way beyond tolerable level.

If none of these things work, I am to go back for consultation after a week. Maybe by then, I'd be given something more substantial than a list of do's and don'ts.

So when you see me looking aimlessly far away - for the record, I am not spacing out. I am following doctor's orders.