Childhood Memories

Eahnice. Dennis’s first born little angel. The eldest of the eldest son of my eldest sister.

Dennis is the eldest son of my eldest sister who is currently in Saudi Arabia employed as a Skilled Worker. He is turning 27 this coming May and is now a father of a pretty little girl – Eahnice.

Last night, while I was checking some e-mails, he suddenly buzzed me and we engaged in some light conversations until he suddenly asked me, “How old are you again, Tito?”, ” I’m turning 31 by May, and you?” He replied, “Turning 27 on May too.” And I told him, “But of course, we used to be together as children before you moved to Cebu and we were good fight mates too!”

He told me he cannot remember any of those events, then came the next reply that sent my heart into fast beats. It scared me in some ways. “I really don’t know why I can’t remember any of my childhood memories, maybe because all I have in my memory is anger”. Of course, I just reminded him of how we fought as children so I concluded I was the reason of that resentment.

It turned out, we shared common experiences as children. We grew up into a military kind of discipline. The harsh way of beat ups every time we commit every little mistake. Neither of our parents are military but as children, our mistakes were numbered and when it reached to three, we better prepare our “butts” for that guava twig (which I believe is the best of all the beat up paraphernalia….hehehe).

Nonetheless, both of us have already resolved this conflict. Another similar case is that we both have talked to our elders about this and there were crying moments and release in the end. I don’t want to call it a “reconciliation” because there was no conflict actually – it’s only us children bearing grudges to them for what we believed as unjust treatment to us when we were young. As for our parents – they only want us to grow as better individuals in the way they believe as the proper approach of child rearing. I told Dennis, “…because that’s how they were raised by their parents too.”

Personally, I don’t have regrets having been raised by my parents in such manner. Somehow, they are successful in molding me into the person that I am now. I would like to believe I grew up as an individual that they envisioned I should be, but in the end, it’s the people around me who can better judge if my parents have been successful after all.

As for Dennis, just before we ended our brief but engaging conversation, he left me last night with this: “I will make a major revision of the disciplinary style of my parents. If I can help it, I will raise my little girl without having to bear resentments in her heart.”

enzo 🙂

 

 

 

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About enzo

A teacher by profession who makes reading as his past time. He has been addicted to facebooking until he decided to make worthy of his time by writing blogs.
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One Response to Childhood Memories

  1. Paulo says:

    This is a travel down memory lane. I didn’t experience this parents’ Spanish-Chinese way of raising the kids. My elder siblings did, especially my brother.
    My somehow nonchalance to my father stems from fear of him as a patriarch.
    When my siblings recall how strict my father was when he was much younger, my father would always tell them, “Had I not been a “difficult-to-bend” father to all of you, you wouldnt’ have reached that point in life where you are now.”
    My father is really a very good provider -no matter how conservatively tight he used to be, and if I would be born again, I would request our Lord to give me the same parents…and perhaps the same childhood memories.

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