With My Fingertip, I Held the World

I remember how that day was just another normal day for my younger brother, Angelo, and I. He was five years old back then, while I was seven. We were playing patintero with our friends, drenched in our own sweat as we vigorously and even passionately moved as if our life depended on whoever wins that round. We played until our mothers had finally screamed our names, a signal that we should head back home for dinner.

My family lived in my grandmother’s and aunt’s house back then so we were naturally close family members. That afternoon, it was our aunt who called us home.

When we had gotten back home that day, I will never forget the look on my mother’s face right at that moment. She greeted us with a toothless smile. When you come down to it, it was a mere grin. Knowing my mother my whole life, she never smiled that way. She would always beam at us whenever we get back home from playing. She smiles so big that it reaches her eyes, forming wrinkles near them. It felt as if something was bothering her mind. It was such an unsettling moment for me. But that time, I didn’t dare ask what was wrong, and just stayed quiet on my own.

After we finished eating dinner, my mother was still acting strange. She became more silent than she already was.

That’s it. I need to ask my aunt if she knows something. That was my initial thought. So, I approached my aunt and asked her if my mother has had a problem lately. She looked at me, deadpan, and said, “Wala… Hindi pa ba sinasabi sa inyo ng mommy niyo na buntis siya?” Then, she cupped my face with her hands, almost a little too rough. “Magiging ate na ulit si Jinging!” she gleefully told me while showering me with kisses on my cheeks.

Pause. It felt as if time seized for 3 long seconds. After that, the whole house was filled with my shriek.

I remember how giddy I was in that moment. My mother was so surprised to see me rushing to her across our bedroom being all excited, jumping around and still screeching as if I received a new Barbie doll on my birthday. I hugged her tightly and buried my face on her chest. Once I broke free from her arms, I could hear my dad laughing on the other side of the bed. Being the innocent child that I was, I sprang on the middle of the bed and lied down in-between my mom and dad.

Other than receiving toys and playing outside with my friends, I have never felt this eager about something as a child. When my mother gave birth to my younger brother, I was only two years old so I never really had a clear knowledge and understanding of what it was like to wait for something to come to life before one’s eyes.

My mother was 39 years old when she was pregnant that time so she needed to be more careful so she could safely deliver the baby. My father, who works as a seaman, decided to stay home until my mother gives birth so we also had the chance to spend more time with him.

When my parents finally revealed the news that we were going to have a baby sister, I, once again, pranced in sheer glee around the house. It’s because of the fact that I won against my brother in a playful bet about the gender of the baby. He was displeased and provoked for the reason that I was taunting him all day long.

That day, I told my family each little bit of my imagined scenario with the younger sister that I was going to meet in the future. I recall telling them how I was looking forward to carrying her in my arms because I have never held a baby my whole life. The idea of it was still foreign and fascinating to me, as a kid. And my parents, even my grandmother and aunt would look at me with adoration in their eyes, as if they laid their eyes on something beautiful for the first time.

The day that my sister was born, I was in school. When I came home, my grandmother immediately approached me, exclaiming that my mother was already in labor. I was astonished because all I knew was that my mother was not supposed to be in labor yet until the twelfth of July, and it was only the sixth. My grandmother told me that my mother had slightly bled so they had to go to the hospital in an instant.

The passing time felt longer than the months that we waited for this moment. We were at home, enduring the tedious hours, waiting for any news about my mother’s labor.

The call came at night. My grandmother answered the phone. I was in the living room with her, waiting for the news about the deliver—may it be good or bad. She looked at me just after the call ended.

My mother and my sister made it. And they’re going to come home.

The first time I met my sister, it felt as if the earth stopped revolving. My mother held her in her arms. I closed the distance between us and laid my eyes on the newly born being.

I touched her hand softly. She wrapped her tiny hand around my finger. And in that moment, I felt the whole world on my fingertip.

Angela. I called her by her name for the first time. Letting the universe know of her existence.