Dear Old Friend

I viewed the Shawshank Redemption again on HBO.  Just like before I was compelled to watch how it unravelled not to mention the marvellous talent of Tim and Morgan.  This time I focused on the friendship of those two main characters, how they helped each other survive the harshness of prison life and the pains of their realities.  

I was reminded of our own friendship.  I’m Morgan of course and you’re Tim for obvious reasons.

I have not seen you in fifteen years.  Canada is far from Cavite and fleeting Facebook just can’t supplant old memories.  I recall the circumstances of our meeting in college and how I despised your conyo ways—you flaunted your difference from all of us.  

We were not so different after all.  Eventually, we gravitated toward each other just like the other members of our barkada sharing the same angst, vices, and twisted ideas. I wonder how those boys and girls all are with their serious lives and domestic affairs.  I wish them well.

And then of course there was that woman now in the UN who encouraged us to grow up and stop being foolish.  Well, it took hours of sometimes inane, sometimes serious, mostly inane conversations as she helped mold our convictions.  I miss her and the times we all had and I know it will be unlikely for us to relive them or even spend time reminiscing.  Years of different worlds might make it impossible.  Aging and cynicism probably have replaced our carefree and foolish ways.  I wonder if she misses us, especially you.

Have we changed?  I don’t know.  Maybe it’s the world that has changed and not even our compunction can stop the inevitability of our new realities.

It would be good to spend time again though even just to swim in the noise of traffic, of other people’s conversations and of passing time.  Kahit isang beer o isang stick lang.  Kahit hindi mag-usap.  Come to think of it, silence and presence is better.  We might find it awkward to speak, not having spoken to each other in more than a decade.

Maybe we can bring that woman from the UN along.  Maybe it can still happen.  Maybe we can still bank on sentimentality just like what I’m doing now.

I strongly hope it happens.  No matter how rich or destitute we are.  

This letter is so sappy, the kind of stuff we despised yet wallowed in just like that moment after watching the Browning Version.

Anyway I have to end now, take care conyo, old friend.  I hope this letter finds you well.