After all this time

제주 테디베어뮤지엄

"Ang saya-saya ko pa kanina 'nung makita ko yung display ng 'Princess Hours' dito," I told my brother over the phone, "Tapos biglang mangyayari ýung ganito." The tears slowly began to flow from my eyes. Before I realized it, I was crying in earnest.

궁

Then I heard a voice: "괜찮아?" I looked up to see the kindest face I've ever seen in my life. Perhaps mistaking my stunned look for confusion, the Korean guy quickly added: "Are you okay?"

I replied, panic in my voice: "아니. I lost a plastic bag. 가방. I had bought some souvenirs from the shop. I think I left it in the theatre. But no one has returned it. I don't know if that guy at the front desk understood what I was looking for. There's a wallet inside the bag and a small puzzle." I heard myself rambling on to the stranger.

"잠시만. Just a moment."

He went over to the reception desk and spoke to the person at the desk in Korean. I could barely understand what they talked about. But judging from their facial expressions, I don't think it was any good news.

The Korean guy turned back to me, smiled and said, "Why don't we go back to the souvenir shop and check?"

I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I followed him to the shop.

"What did you say you had lost? A wallet, isn't it? Like this one?" He lifted a wallet from one of the shelves. It was of the same design as the one I had bought. I nodded in reply.

"And what else was in the bag?"

"A small jigsaw puzzle."

He walked over to the shelf of the jigsaw puzzles. "Which one? 이거?"

"이거." I pointed to the puzzle next to the one he had picked out.

"아. 그래요? Good choice. Anything else?" When he spoke in English, there was only a faint hint of the Korean accent.

"A postcard." He looked through the rack of postcards and picked out one.

"가자!" And motioned for me to follow him. He went to the cashier and paid for the items. Then he handed me the plastic bag.

"여기있어요. We can't find the shopping bag that you've lost. But I wouldn't want you to leave Jeju with a bad memory," he said, his reassuring smile not fading at all, "반갑습니다... 이름이뭐예요?"

And with that, our love story began.

"Eh ganun talaga. May ibang tao nang nakapulot nun. Syempre, di na nila ibabalik yun," My brother's voice on the phone broke into my reverie.

You weren't there after all. But I've always known you wouldn't be there. 

In the past, there have already been countless times when you could have been there. You could have been the senior who tutored me in Math 18 when I was a struggling freshman. When I used to commute from Quezon City to Makati for my summer internship, you could have seen me in the LRT from Katipunan to Cubao and the MRT from Cubao to Ayala, squashed among the hoards of people during rush hour.    

A few years after, you could have been someone who worked in the same building where our company's office was located. Or you could have seen me every Sunday morning at the Greenbelt Chapel, attending the 10AM mass alone.

When I lost my job in Singapore, you could have been  the officemate who comforted me through the months when I almost lost all of my self-esteem for every new job opportunity that slipped past.

You could have been my seatmate on the long flights from Singapore to Doha and from Doha to Barcelona, the first time I've ever ventured to travel alone; or on that tiresome five-hour bus ride from Cebu City to Oslob, another one of those solo trips that I went for.

You could have been a brother in the Singles for Christ community, a guy in Skout, OKCupid, CatholicMatch or MeeFF, a regular at Fitness First Paragon (or maybe not). You could have been a guy I've danced with in Clark Quay during that time of my life when I still considered clubbing an exciting past-time.

You could have been in Perth, Sydney and Melbourne - cities in Australia that I've liked so much I visited each of them three times. Or you could have been in Seoul.

You could have been a random stranger I had met in one of the many airports and train stations I've passed through or someone I had asked directions from while trying to find my way in the streets of unfamiliar cities and towns.

You could have been a friend of a friend. You could have been an old friend.

And that moment at the Teddy Bear Museum, when I was in tears, lost and helpless, you could have had your chance once again. 

But you let it pass. Again.

I know I've said two years ago that I will stop writing to you and I will stop writing about you. 

And I did. For a long time, I did.

I had been able to stay away from the thought of you. I had enough to pre-occupy my time and my mind. My job went from troublesome to stressful to downright unbearable. In between, I experienced my first snowfall in Vancouver; I watched a Broadway musical, in Broadway finally; I ticked off the Sky Lantern Festival in Taiwan off my bucketlist; I went from bridesmaid at friends' weddings to ninang to their firstborns; I became engaged in the topic of Philippine politics until the absurdity of it became totally intolerable; I got involved in volunteering activities in Singapore; I watched too many Korean dramas I've already lost count of them. I learned to read 한글.

I lived my quiet normal life. By myself most of the time. Everything was fine - I was completely fine. Even Valentine's Days and my birthdays went by without drama.

And I'm still fine with the way things are. In fact, a big part of me thinks I was cut out for a life like this. A life that can grant me a freedom to do as I please (as long as I don't land myself in jail, of course) and to go anywhere anytime. (Okay, not really. I do need to file for vacation leave and I do need to tell my parents where in the world their restless daughter had escaped to yet again.) 

But there are days - and these are not even days with special occasions - just ordinary days and moments when the thought of you just slips through. 

That moment just before sunset. Or that moment I arrive at home or at my hotel room right before I open the door. I realize that I still miss you. I don't know if I should laugh or cry over the fact that after all this time, that longing is still there, although it has become just a faint hint of what it used to be. And I sometimes find it quite bewildering that I can't put a face to this person that I miss. You don't even look like any of the Korean oppas that I've ever been infatuated with. 

During times like these when I find myself looking for what seems to be missing, I turn to the Lord and ask: "Tantya mo, Lord, darating pa kaya s'ya? Sa dami ng tao sa mundo, meron kaya akong 'the one'? Eh nasan pala sya? Kaya lang kung dumating sya eh keri ko ba 'yun, Lord? Parang ang weird kung may ka-holding hands ako. Pa'no kung yung moments na ayoko lang makipag-usap sa mga tao, pwede bang hindi ko na lang rin sya kausapin? Stressful. Ayoko pa naman yung nag-e-explain."

Obviously, the Lord hasn't responded to any of my questions all these years. Malamang wala Siyang lakad kaya hindi Siya nagmamadali. LOL.

These days, it does make me wonder if you, dear one, could be just behind this fence that I am hesitant to climb over. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, so goes the saying. I do know that's not necessarily true of the grass that is on the other side of this fence right before me. That other side actually has too many uncertainties, too many unknowns. And uncertainties and unknowns are things that I try to avoid as much as I could.

Then again, regardless of whether I'll find you on the other side or not, the thought of the grass on that side of the fence excites me. I think the hope of eventually crossing over is the only thing that has kept me sane these past months. Maybe I do have some fantastic notion of what's out there. But the one thing I'm sure of despite the uncertainties that go with it, is that this is the new lease on life that I have long wanted. Perhaps this is the next leap of faith that I need to take. Hindi Mo naman ako pababayaan, Lord, di ba? At higit sa lahat, hindi Mo naman pababayaan ang mga taong maiiwan ko, hindi ba? My heart is in a bind. I needed reassurance, lots of it. 

So shall we see each other on the other side, dear one? If we do, I'd like you to know - I haven't been to East Jeju.

Sincerely,

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