Dear Jhi,
There are some conversations that start so casually that you don’t realize you’re slowly being let into someone’s life.
That morning, I simply sent you photos from my jog.
“Nagjogging uli. Sakit uli katawan.”
Nothing special. Just me sharing a little piece of my day.
Then the next morning, you greeted me.
“Good morning!”
You even looked at the photos and said, “nice ganda ng view sa inyo talaga..” ❤️
And somehow, from that simple conversation, we ended up talking about your mom.
I asked how she was because I knew she had been in the hospital. You told me she was already out, and that you were going back to Manila soon. You said you were relieved because your mom could finally stay with you there.
Then you started telling me about your family.
About how you didn’t want to leave your mom alone in Gensan.
About your business.
About the crops.
About developers.
And then, somewhere in the middle of all those stories, I realized something.
You were an only child.
And then I finally understood.
You really are an only child.
It was everything that came after.
And suddenly, being an only child sounded very different.
It’s not just being the only kid.
It’s being the one person your mom looks to.
The one who eventually has to make decisions.
The one who carries the business.
The one who has to think about what happens to the land.
The one who worries about his mother.
The one who feels like he can’t simply walk away because there’s no one else who can take his place.
And I think that’s why you were so emotional when you talked about it.
You told me how your mom said you’d be the one to make the decisions.
And then you told me you hugged her and cried.
That part stayed with me.
Because underneath all the jokes, the teasing, the “ulyanin ka na” and “kakakape mo yan,” I got to see a different side of you.
The son who worries about his mother.
The son who wants to take care of her.
The son who feels responsible for the things his parents built.
And maybe that’s something I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t asked that simple question about your mom.
Funny how that happens.
Sometimes, you think you’re just asking “Okay na ba mama mo?”
And suddenly, you learn about someone’s childhood, their parents, their family, their responsibilities, their future…
and even the fact that they’re an only child. 😂
Then, after all that serious conversation, you went right back to teasing me.
“Ulyanin ka na po.”
And eventually, we were talking about trucks again.
Because of course we were.
But I think I’ll remember that conversation.
Not because you finally corrected my very wrong “five siblings” memory.
But because that was the day I learned a little more about the life behind the person I’ve been talking to.
And maybe that’s what I liked about that conversation.
You didn’t just answer my question.
You let me in.
Even if it was just a little.
Always, Nikka