blessings of the maids. that's plural. gesundheit! i'd like to believe that you know how to get your own towels now.
bitaw, the rain is a source of joy for children. i never listened to my mother when she reminded me not to get wet in the rain. i found excuses to get wet (like pretending to slip in a puddle) just so she would have no more reason to keep me away from playing in the rain and loving its feel on my face.
these days? ugh. not anymore. it would mean bad colds. worse, it would make me look like a miscast character in a romantic novella, running in the rain in slo-mo, with a lion running after me.
hehehe. oh yes. i can still remember our yayas: yaya arsing (from inabanga; she still works for us in Valencia. Loyal kaayo), yaya inday, yaya rohelia, ug si nanay millie (my father's aunt who took care of me when both my parents were abroad). my father and mother sent all of our yayas to school (high school and college), most of them are now teachers in bohol. so it paid off. my father is a firm believer of the power of education and self-sustenance; a conservative value he was raised with and imbued with by his late father, my grand father, Mr. Rustico A. Lucino.
when i visited philippines this summer, i saw yaya inday (who is now a teacher in Valencia Central Elementary; a head teacher there); she also happens to be my mother's 1st degree cousin. when i went to valencia, i was so happy to see that yaya arsing was the one of the caretakers caring for my lolo ciano. and she has not changed much. aside from her grey hairs; she used to have jet black hair (from my childhood memory). she still labas the clothes in the morning, and makes the best (da best of da best) pinakbet. just the way they make it her hometown of Inabanga. every morning she dresses in white and attends the 6 am morning mass at Valencia's St. Nino Parish Church.
One day, i woke up at 5 am, got ready to attend mass. as i drove my isuzu crosswind to church, i saw yaya arsing walking on the ways towards church. with her white gown and a white sash over her head. very beautiful faith. i went to church and found a seat in the back (the whole church was filled in the morning; hehehe) and saw that yaya arsing had sat down in the front.
i was able to treat her reactive arthritis. i recently just introduced her to a prednisone regimen and warned her of eating too much baka for fear of uric acid buildup for her gout. so i had to make sure to introduce her to colchicine/allopurinol. she is so short now. i remember as i was giving her instructions for the medication, she was looking intently into my eyes. listening every word i told her. i could not help but think of the time when i was a little child. about 4 years old. when i was alone and missing my parents, it was my yaya arsing who used to pikpik and sing me to sleep and would use a paypay so that i could sleep fast. she used to sing me old lullabies to sleep.
i had to stop myself from crying when i saw how old she had gotten. and how sickly she has been. she used to care for me when i was just a baby. even before i was born, my parents had already employed her in our house. now here i was, 25 years old and a medical intern--the one caring for the one who knew me even before i knew how to talk and walk.
it was touching.
before i left for home, she said to me, "Maluuy ang Ginoo nimo, Ondoy...buotan ka kaayo...always be good,
ondoy bran bran."
i do miss her. yaya arsing...
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