Memoirs of an Amnesiac

I grew up with boys. My mother was always at work and rarely stayed home. My father and brother had been two of the very first men who influenced me greatly at an age where young girls fancy about princes and tutus.

I fit in perfectly into the world of my father who wanted so much for a boy as a first born. I played everything that my brother played, lut-hang (or those bamboo toys where you stuff lubi-lubi or wet paper inside and push them to be aimed at someone), spiders (where you make them fight light like roosters), kite (although until now I still couldn't fly one), kasing (the Filipino top), marbles and rubber bands (where you bore holes and make marbles go through them and rubber bands that you bury under sand and you pick with bamboo sticks) and many other toys I only have vague remembrance now.

I wore shorts and t-shirts instead of dresses to my mother's disappointment. For me the only gender that existed back then was the male gender. Since the basketball court was just right in front of our house (and even until now), I was always seen playing on the court. We used to play onse-onse and was always bullied by my brother who obviously had an edge with that sport.

My toys were always those miniature toy soldiers complete with guns, tanks and those plastic leaves and fences. My mother bought me a set of kitchen utensils but she never let me play with them and had them displayed instead (complete with their plastic wrap). I guess you could not blame me for my aversion towards them. When my mother brought me to a toy store at the age of 12, I first got my life-sized doll. You know those kinds that are almost like chaka doll that closes their eyes when they lay down and opens them when they go up. Now they scare the hell out of me. At about the same time, my father tried to buy me a toy. He just pointed at the display of M16 plastic rifles and said, "Choose!" in his somewhat military tone. I never got the toy and remembered I cried when I went home. When I told him about this last year, he just laughed and added that he could not remember he did it to me.

I enjoyed so much being in the company of boys that when I was in my teens, I was always seen hanging out with them. Of course this was met with a lot of snickers (not the chocolate) among my peers. So, from being the one-of-the-boys version, I turned to being the prim and proper princess my mother wanted me to be. I developed an interest in clothes, shoes and accessories. The opposite gender became interesting and I became an absentee on the court.

How I missed those times with my father and brother! Those were the times when all my brother and I had to worry about was how many times we will get lashed because we were playful and naughty. Or that we didn't sleep during siesta time. Whenever we play, my father would put his arm around me and tell me that we are teammates in a game against my brother. Oh, we'd make a perfect team.

It felt great having to be surrounded with boys. There is that feeling of security that only protective boys could offer. It made me want to feel so weak and vulnerable.

Now I will have to fend for myself. Because I have to. My father's dead and my brother already had a family of his own, two people he needs to protect by himself.

I face our basketball court now and see some boys playing. Sometimes, I'd see myself with my father and brother playing, like a mirage in a rather lighted desert.

How I miss those two.