Tired from work and hungry for dinner, I was caught in the line for the bus. There was a chill in the air, a drizzle of rain, and I was underdressed. I remembered my lola who used to say, “Baka mahamugan yung bumbunan mo, apo.” I thought that only infants got hamog in their bunbunan. Now, I see her wisdom as my headache needed a warm hat and my sore throat yearned for a scarf.
New immigrants still underestimate the weather in the States. In
And then I heard Tagalog words from the seats in the front and at my side. It is difficult to eavesdrop on Pinoys as they speak so softly—just a decibel above mumbling—versus everyone else who speaks so loudly into their cellphones; you can tell their life story.
Back to the Pinoys in the bus, and the snippets of conversation I managed to make out. (I pretended to be asleep and leaned forward to hear them better):
Busmate 3: “Nagluto ka na?”
I thank the Lord for my blessings. Compared to my busmates, all my kids are here with me, and they are thriving. My eldest is in University, largely on financial aid, with great grades and a part-time job. He wants to be an accountant. My second has a 4.0 GPA in his report card. He wants to be an actor.