October 2005
When I was little I never dreamt big. All I wanted was something so simple, it didn’t need wishing wells and magic spells. It was a dream that I’d never told anyone. Even my mother never knew about it. I never shared it to my friends because I knew they would never understand. I’d only end up being laughed at and teased. It was a dream that I wasn’t very proud of because it wasn’t like what most people wish for. So when asked what I wanted to have when I grew up, I had to make up other dreams. I told “better” ones. I talked about big houses, cars, fancy dresses and money. I told them dreams other children had. But I knew those were not what I really wanted.
During “show-off” times, my playmates would always envy me for having to think of the “better” dream, or for coming up with the “cooler” ambition. Then they would try to beat me by talking about the most ridiculous things that no amount of coins tossed in a thousand wishing wells and all the powers of fairy godmothers and tooth fairies combined could ever put to reality. Try building a gold castle and filling it with candy–on the moon.
At the end of each day, after we decide who had the coolest ideas and ambitions, (which would almost always turn out to be me) my young playmates would leave jealous and frustrated. And I would be left alone to think of my other, real, secret dream.
Instead of a castle or a mansion of concrete and marble, all I really wanted was a small nipa hut. Outside, I imagine not a multitude of cars but plenty of trees, fruits, vegetables and flowers. Instead of filling my house with fancy food, candy and toys, I prefer it bare and unadorned. Maybe just a bed to lie on, and a set of table and chairs for four. I would imagine myself eating fried galunggong and tomatoes instead of lechon. Instead of a pool, I wanted a river, where I could swim, fish and sail my paper boats in. I never appreciated beaded gowns and dresses. Just loose, comfortable clothes. I even remember telling myself I’m not going to wear undergarments when I grow up. I hated wearing underwear. Always made me wonder why wear something nobody sees anyway.
In my dream little nipa hut, I pictured myself living alone, very happy and content. I guess I still didn’t know you were supposed to share your house with someone when you’re older. Or at least have the option to do so. Or maybe I’m just really selfish even as a kid.
Thirteen years later, nothing much has changed. I still dream. Most of the time, in fact. I still dream of my little nipa hut. I still like eating fried galunggong and tomatoes. I still don’t like wearing underwear and I still choose cotton shirts and jeans over beaded dresses. I am still inspired by my little brown imaginary house. I’m starting to think about sharing it with someone now, though. Maybe a son, or a daughter. Maybe a husband. (But not necessarily both at the same time.) Perhaps even just a good friend will do. I still want a garden nearby my house. I still want to swim and fish in the river.
Until now, I’m still the girl who dreamt of simple things. The girl with weird dreams as a six-year–old and even as – (if I could call myself) a grown-up. Nothing much has changed. The years haven’t changed what I want.
Sometimes it just feels good to remember simple things from childhood and realize you’ve never really lost them. Just like now. It feels like as if my young friends have just left after one of those “show-off” times. I could almost hear their tiny complaining voices and the smell of my sweat-drenched ragged shirt.
And once, again, I am left alone. Very much just like the old times. Only this time, I’m not making it up for anyone. This is no longer one of those “show-off” times. This, is just what I want —a simple life.
photo: http://www.stuartxchange.org
