“You want to go to the market with me, Meyot?” his *tatay asked one early morning, calling him by the endearing pet name.

“Of course, Tatay!” he exclaimed as he was lifted, his 5-year old legs settling on his tatay’s broad shoulders.

He towered over everyone, his giggles drowning the hustle and bustle of the a.m. traffic. The cool breeze blew his black hair from his forehead, allowing the rising sun to give it some warmth. He was happy as a clam!

He wasn’t sure how he came under the care of a doting couple, Asyon and Eping, who he called “**Nanay” and “Tatay”. He slept and broke bread with them, apart from his real family. The makeshift hut on stilts adjoining the well-built house made him feel sheltered and safe. It was his home. Not once did he miss his real parents and siblings.

They took him for a vacation to their hometown miles away. Their nipa hut was cozy. He didn’t mind the lack of electricity, running water, or in-house toilet. There he met their older kids, Pepe and Laling, who also doted on him as their younger brother. Being with them brought more than enough comfort of home.

“You want some, Meyot?” his nanay asked, offering his favorite native delicacy which she slaved over for hours.

“Thank you, Nanay!” he replied, her tender and caring face underscoring her love for him.

They were getting ready for the Christmas season. His tatay and he made a ***parol and were about to hang it in the window when someone showed up at the door.

“I am here to pick you up,” said his father’s brother without exchanging pleasantries.

Everyone looked at each other, surprised by his unannounced visit, more so by his pronouncement.

“No, I don’t want to go!” he replied after a slight hesitation, looking at his nanay and tatay for some intervention.

“You must come!” interjected his uncle with a growl and a tightened face.

“No, no, no!” He started to sob, his tatay, nanay, Pepe, and Laling watching feeling helpless.

His uncle grabbed his arm and dragged him to the nearby train station without saying anything.

“Nanay! Tatay!” he wailed, startling the boarding train passengers.

His screams fell on deaf ears, his tatay clenching his jaw, his nanay holding back her tears, and Pepe and Laling standing immobile.

He wiped the tears off his swollen eyes with the back of his hand, his stuttering inhalations in unison with the sound of the train’s clickety-clack. It was the last time that he saw all of them together.

His family fell on hard times. The electrical/mechanical shop that his father owned and operated did not keep up with modern technology, forcing customers to go elsewhere. Providing the children with their basic needs became difficult; putting food on the table now a struggle.

Nevertheless, he pushed on. He was motivated by a singular goal.

“Be a good and strong boy.” The calm, but firm voice of his tatay still ringing in his ears.

He managed to make it through the first day in Grade I, sitting in the back row. He marveled at his well-dressed classmates who had personal helpers bring food at recess time. Having none to satisfy his hunger, he picked up a half-eaten sandwich from a table.

His artistic attempt showed promise when in Grade II, they were asked to send Christmas cards to Grade III students. He did have crayons, but wished he had owned more than the red and green ones. Nevertheless, he created beautiful cards with the iconic cluster of Christmas red berries and green leaves with tightly-waved edges.

“You have tartar on your teeth! Ugh!” A Grade V school bully one time yelled at him. He immediately shut his mouth tight, not knowing whether to apologize. Embarrassed and hurt, he wished that he had paid attention to dental hygiene despite the lack of toothbrush and toothpaste at home. However, saving the day was an interesting request by the music teacher to visit her office. She had him play the piano thinking that he had some musical talent.

He excused himself from attending the Grade VI Christmas party.

“I am sorry, but I don’t think I can attend. My family does not have enough money to contribute.”

His classmates offered to pay for him, but he decided not to go.

In high school, he had a few friends. The bullies left him alone, respecting him for his intellect. He was so serious with his studies, leaving no time to socialize. Besides, his mind was struggling with the all-consuming family issues in general and his social inadequacy in particular.

“Be careful. Others might think you are stuck-up!” His friends would remind him on occasion.

His mother being gone for days playing mahjong and his father coming home dead drunk from cavorting with friends did not help in keeping the family together. His brother succumbed to drugs and his sister got knocked up in her teens.

He graduated from high school with honors. His parents passed away shortly thereafter, leaving him to fend for himself. He rented a room, unable to provide upkeep of the house.

He made it through college because of his grades. The scholarships helped, but he worked part-time as the University janitor and sold cooked peanuts on the street corner after school to make ends meet. Occasionally, a best friend offered financial assistance. Her taking him for a slice of cake and coffee at the university canteen did make his day.

One Sunday morning, there was a faint rapping on the door while he was editing his acceptance speech as the new President of the University’s Student Council. He stood up to retighten and safety-pin the worn out elastic on his one and only pair of jockey shorts while inside his pants and then walked to the door.

“Is Meyot around?” asked a well-groomed, elderly gentleman.

“Who are you?” he asked through the slightly open door, not hearing what the man was saying. His gaze widened as he carefully studied the man’s deeply-wrinkled forehead and the neatly-trimmed full beard and mustache. Then his eyes narrowed, trying to place this man at the door.

“Ta…tay?” he asked in a soft, measured, and stuttering tone.

“Yes! It is me, Meyot!”

He sprang open the door! He rushed to give him a big hug, his laughter turning into deep sobs. Visions of the ride on his shoulders, the vacation, the sweet and caring Nanay, the doting brother and sister rushed back as the strong arms that once lifted him now rubbing and patting his back.

“I am here to again take care of you.” His tatay’s eyes still clear despite the grey hairs that surround them, the broad shoulders now somewhat slumped.

“Really?” he replied, the word almost a whisper as it vibrated out of his vocal cords.

“Yes, I heard about you and your hardships. Pepe and Laling have well-paying jobs. We have moved to the city!” he said in one breath. “Your Nanay and I never forgot you. We tried to locate you. Unfortunately she passed away.” He paused and cleared his throat as he scanned his “boy’s” pained look. “It wasn’t until I came across the newspapers featuring you as the short story contest winner when I knew your whereabouts.”

“I am glad that you found me, Tatay!”, he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Come. I’ll show you something.”

Parked on the road was a nice car. Pepe was smiling in the driver’s seat. Laling moved to the front, vacating the back seat for his tatay and him.

He is now in his 70s. The clinging shadow of the sad past has been shaken off. It is replaced by the one that accompanies him in his early morning walks – the shadow of once was Tatay Eping’s giggling boy.

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*tatay /’tätī/ = father in Filipino dialect
**nanay /’nänī/ = mother in Filipino dialect
***parol = a Filipino, star-shaped Christmas lantern that represents the star that guided the three wise men and traditionally made of bamboo and translucent white or colored paper.