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 Manila, the first sign of clouds merits showing off our jackets, saved only for Baguio or Tagaytay. Here in the States, the first sign of the sun merits wearing our shorts and flip-flops. The transition from summer to fall is always tricky.
I also yearned for a big hug from my husband, now in Manila, doing business. I am wondering what in the world I am doing in this blasted line, waiting for the bus, out in the cold and rain.
So my tears welled up as I rode the bus. There was a thick, stale air of fatigue and weariness in that bus that made me dizzy. Everyone was semi-wet and extremely depleted from a full day at work.
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 1: “Ayoko na dito. Ang hirap-hirap. . . Sa Pilipinas kasi, hindi uso ang working student.”
Busmate 2: “Walang ipon dito. Akala nila, marami akong pera dito, sa kanila naman lahat napupunta.”
Busmate 1: “. . .Hindi ko naman mapipigil kung gusto niyang mag-asawa na. . .”
Busmate 2: “Di mo naman mapipili yon. . .”
***
Busmate 3: “Nagluto ka na?”
Busmate 4: “Di pa nga, e. Nung Sabado, gumawa ako ng lumpiang shanghai. Nagustuhan naman nila.”
Busmate 3: “Nakakatamad magluto!”
Busmate 4: “Sinabi mo. Nakakatamad pati kumain.”
***
I realized that they are tired from work and homesick for their families, too. Loneliness is a tenacious and dangerous weed to cultivate here. You have to be careful that it does not overtake you. So because I miss my husband and also to make all my efforts at work feel lighter, I saved some money (because I never eat out and make baon everyday) and I am poised to buy the cute pair of boots on sale at Shoe Pavilion.
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.
And so now, I know why I am semi-wet on this bus, tired from work and hungry for dinner.
To give my kids the option to live in this country and to offer them the possibilities that will soon be available to them, makes all my sacrifices worth it.
And tomorrow, I will bring an umbrella, a hat, and my coat.
