Walking our dogs in Lipa. Feb 2009. I was 6 months pregnant with Narra. |
Three years, ago, in 2009, Oliver gave me a lovely Valentine's gift. It was a Tiffany bracelet with a heart charm on which a single 3-letter word was engraved: MUM (count on my husband to pick a less popular spelling - it made me laugh when I read it). I was then 6 months pregnant with our first child. I felt a different kind of kilig when I received it. I was going to be a mom! It's the fulfillment of a cherished dream from childhood. Like most other women, I dreamt of finding that one person with whom I'll raise a family. I got to live out the classic vision of having a home with a white picket fence (although in our case it was a black steel fence).
In front of our home, with our dogs Kira and Turk. |
Our first home in Lipa, Batangas, was pretty surreal. It was a secluded rustic house made of bricks and glass with a rugged paint finish on the cement walls. The house's finishing touches was designed by local artist and celebrated potter Ugu Bigyan from nearby Tiaong. The woodwork was likewise sourced locally, made of indigenous materials, and crafted by San Pablo's skillful carpenters. The house sat on a corner lot overlooking fields with coconut trees. We had views of beautiful mountains of the Southern Tagalog region. That home gave us a strong sense of place - we are here! We are home! Oliver and I had a long distance relationship before getting married. I was in Singapore, he was in Hong Kong. And before that, I lived in Spain, and he lived in Japan. We both had options to live elsewhere. But we both wanted to come home and establish roots here. And in Lipa, we lived an idyllic existence replete with leisurely pursuits.
With Kira, who was also pregnant like me! |
We would take long walks in the wind, towards the sunset, or under the stars. We'd let our dogs run free across fields, unleashed, and make them catch frisbees at great distances. We flew kites! And picked wild flowers to put on our vase. We slept early when everything got dark, and woke up early when our room was bathed in sunlight. We holed up in our room when strong rains came, and howling winds banged on our windows. We'd invite family and friends for a weekend barbecue. Here, Oliver was indulged his many hobbies: fishing, biking, hiking, riding his scooter, training his dogs. Here I was able to go roller blading, enjoying long stretches of cemented road all to myself, skating for hours without encountering a soul. Here too, we had fresh coconuts, straight off the tree and split open with our own itak. We ate fruits in season and heard frogs in concert come mating time. Isolated from my family and friends, and from the busy lifestyle I used to live, I had many moments of frustration and depression in Lipa. But at the same time, this sad time was also a sweet period - like one prolonged honeymoon. Now looking back, that moment in Lipa seems all too brief! A precious period before our children came, when family meant only him and me.
My first visit to what would be my future home with Oliver. July, 2008. |
And this is why I think of Lipa today, on Valentine's Day. The mind has it's own way of filing away memories, and somehow my mind put that brief period in Lipa and Valentine's Day in the same drawer.
Valentine's after all, started as a commemoration of Christian martyrs named Valentine (The Catholic Encyclopedia speaks of 3 St. Valentines, all martyrs), and later evolved to be a celebration of courtly love and romantic love. My Valentine's (like any other wife's or mother's for that matter) is a story of both romance and sacrifice. That is what my Tiffany bracelet means to me...yes, a romantic gift it is, from the man I love. But also, with the engraved word "Mum", a symbol of my new identity, as supportive wife to my husband, and doting mom to my kids. I woke up this morning and looked at the loves of my life: Oliver hugging Narra, who was hugging Guijo, who in turn was hugging me. And I thought to myself "Happy Valentine's Day Mum". Oh how in love I am, with all of them.
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