Suddenly this struck me: I want to serialize and put in written form the events that happened to me when I was younger. This is my way of “digitizing” my memories–so I may remember them when i get older. It’s like telling everyone that I existed and I lived on this Earth, that there was me who once roamed a boring life.
In times when I want to get away from the bustle of life, when I want to relive some gentle memories–I can simply turn to this blog and think of my good days. I’ll start with today’s entry.
An Old Coin
I had a friend in high school that I got along quite well. He liked classical music like I did. I remember singing “Panis Angelicus” with him, to the delight of our music teacher. And we sing it in falsetto!
I lent him my Charlotte Church CD and he liked it immensely (I think). I have high regard to persons who like classical music, considering them attracted to higher forms of art.
I don’t know why but I always want to escape to my high school (and earlier) days when I want to feel calm. Back then, life was easier and the memories were vivid. If I could relive my life I would really anticipate the high school episodes.
Now, regarding this friend of mine: one day he paid me a visit on our house near a military camp. I think that was a Saturday. I can’t remember why he came but I think we were to study about a subject. I am not certain if we studied something at all. Anyway, I was glad he came.
What I do remember is that I gave him a short tour of the place. We biked our way inside the camp, on the main road, and talked about sundry things. The next thing I know is that we were at the end of the airport runway. Beyond it was the gate to the former Vietnamese refugee camp, which was off-limits to civilians. The refugees were no longer there and had been transferred elsewhere.
At the runway we saw the straight path that the aeroplanes traverse before lifting off to the air then far into the troposphere. I think it was cloudless but not really hot; and the sky was azure. The point where we stood was near the boundary of the runway. At our feet were fairly large pebbles and some crawling plants, sprawled into the soil-deficient concrete. At the end of the runway was a barricade, after that was the stretch of a seemingly endless sea. We went there. I recall him taking a 25-centavo from his pocket and fitted it into a hollow part of the concrete barricade’s surface.
“We will go back here one day and see if the coin is still here,” he said. I nodded in approval. It was a crude time capsule.
After which an airport personnel guarding the runway approached us and bidding us to leave the secured area. After all, we should have not been there.
Fast forward, I visited the runway, alone, during my college days. I went to the runway barricade and searched the surface. Unfortunately I failed to locate it. I didn’t know the exact crack where my friend inserted the coin but I know it was there. I thought, who would come there on a casual manner and take out an old coin. Perhaps no-one.
I dream of that day when I and my friend will revisit the runway and look for the coin together. I wish that day would come.
Ang nakaraa’y di na babalik
bawat sandali ay lumilipas;
sa isipan lamang makakatalik
kasiyahang palaging matimyas