maturity

We all mature: one way or another. It is one of those simple facts of life we could never escape from. There will come a day wherein we realize that we have changed the way we view things, mostly for the better, without even knowing it (unless, of course, we were born to be naturally evil and inhumane, which has an almost nil chance of happening to any human being). Just a few hours ago, THE DAY made itself known to me.

Like Dorian Gray and Lord Henry Wotton, I used to value physical beauty above a lot of things, but quite unlike them, this is rather unconsciously observed. Do we not, as kids, often play with playmates that look as pleasant as their genes, or as their parents’ money, could bring about? I was guilty of this, but I fear not for my soul, knowing that a lot of people were, too. Anyway, there was this kid whom nobody really liked too well. I was not exactly the popular kid, but I found myself to be at higher ground than she was because at least I had some “friends.” She was the kind of kid others would run away from when she came to the playground, as if she had some sort of extremely deadly and highly contagious disease, or that she was the ”it” of one of the many-oh-so-many games we used played when we were kids. When I come to think of it, I could not come up with even a single fault she had that I once found so major. She was not ugly; although she was rather plain-looking. She was not shabby. She was not abusive, like I had been and sometimes am. I knew very little of her then. I still know little of her now, but somehow, I know better than I did then.

Her father was also a subject for scrutiny to my then young but extremely criticizing eyes. She looked so much like her father, and so everything I came to associate with her, which are now all forgotten, were things I associated with her father, too. Her father and mine had the same job, and they both (our dads) had this stressful look about them, but that which I did not mind seeing in my father, and yet found so annoying in others. He had dark lips which I was used to associating with mean people. And that was the end of it. I seemed to have hated them both, apparently for reasons I thought were good enough back then, and I determinedly decided to never have anything to do with their family. Period.

Or so I thought. I never encountered the girl again until university. I always saw her about campus with this big smile on her face. She looked so different from when we were kids in grade school, but maybe that was just a product of the many prejudices we have that shape our memories much more than we wish they would, or even much more than what is good. And given the label I have given her back then, I always ended up hesitating to greet her. I guess prejudices built from youth are difficult to remove from seemingly stable adult systems. I went about the hallways without even giving her a little glance whenever I passed her by. I know she knows that I can see her, and she, me, but people just act stupid when they don’t know how to act, and by that, I am no exception. I can’t exactly remember when, but she just sent me a friend request on Friendster, for which I did not have enough arrogance and insolence to reject. From then on, she would greet me first whenever our literal paths crossed (She greeted first, not I, usually so due to my convenient myopia, ADD, and, again, sheer hesitance).

Or paths crossed again today, but this time, I really had no inkling of her approaching presence. I was on my way home while she was on her way to somewhere in the school. All the time I was walking, I was really preoccupied with my heavy backpack and of all the things I have to do tonight (this long entry not included). As I was walking up some steps near Roxas Gate, there she was blocking my way, saying “Hi!” with this big smile on her face (which I found to be the extremely contagious disease that she had all along). I gave my startled, yet equally cheerful reply, and went on my way with a much lighter heart, surely, much lighter than my 10-kilogram backpack.

I rode a jeepney home. I am not sure where and when her father entered the jeepney (or where he left, for that matter), but it took a while before I noticed his presence. I am sure not to be mistaken with what I saw, though the two crossing of paths that have been extremely coincidental and at the same time related, and happening within a few minutes of each other at that, might leave one to think that I might have been on drugs, or that the heat of the 3 o’clock sun was producing mirages of the most realistic kind before me. He was there, but just like his daughter, he looked quite different from my remembrance of him. Yes, his hair was starting to thin quite badly in some places, but he could not look any more pleasant than he did today. His lips, once black (or that could have just been my imagination, too—you know how kids could be), have now turned into a pinkish-pale color, the kind I associate with kind men. I heard his father stopped at his work, and has now become a teacher. Maybe that’s the reason why he looks so fulfilled. I know his current job can’t possibly pay as well as his former (he used to be a sea farer), but what is money compared to one’s fulfillment? I can’t say for certain whether he knew me or not, but for the better part of my ride of home, I pretended to be asleep while listening to my iPod (as I usually do).

It is weird to have this kind of encounter (the most remarkable in my year so far), given that I just finished reading Dorian Gray yesterday. I now no longer have that “never have anything to do with their family” sort of attitude. In fact, I wish to be given the chance to be invited for dinner and know them better. It’s a n occassion I don’t count on happening, if happenstance or my will were to be depended upon. Happenstance often do not work for you if you pray with all your might that it might do so, and my will is greatly overshadowed by my hesitance to bring upon any significant progress. At any rate, I am just so happy that this day happened the way it did. Realizations are good for the soul, and anything good for the soul is something I need more than anything in the world right now.