Life out of a painted small box

Tuesdays and Yellow Jeepneys

Dear Mr. Stranger,

Let me begin by saying, Tuesday is now my favorite day. The nonchalant feeling to it makes it more exciting when at the end of each Tuesday, I find myself keeping up with my own heartbeat as I fail to contain it to a normal rate. Twice, Tuesday has proved that anyone’s life can change in just one “hello” or in one yellow jeepney ride.

It was a Tuesday night when I first met you. I remember feeling oddly sad that day when I shouldn’t be since Christmas spirit is all over the place. In fact it was the same day as our school’s Christmas party and it’s just 2 days to go before Christmas break. 

Christmas party. I was indifferent during the occasion, well maybe because nobody seemed to care about my presence and I’m actually glad nobody did. Let’s just say that I’m not in the mood to party. I hardly know my new colleagues anyway. 

Eight o’clock and I was hurrying home. I didn’t even bother to appear delighted after the party and headed straight to the campus’ gate. While walking you greeted me with a “hi” and introduced yourself, though I don’t remember your name. (I don’t remember most people’s names anyway) That took me by surprise. I just thought that I was invisible the whole night. I was a bit skeptical about talking to you. You didn’t look like you would snatch my bag any moment anyway, so that gave me away. 

I just can’t help but be amazed by how much I was able to talk about myself with you in just a short distance from the canteen to the gate. Honestly, I didn’t want our little conversation to end yet. So when you asked where I live, I was ready to say goodbye, but then you offered your company when I said I live at UP Village. Apparently, you live at Teacher’s Village.

I don’t really fancy riding Jeepneys, but that night it is my favorite PUV. You told me about a lot of things. One thing stuck though, no, not your name, it was something about being a “possibility.” I remember saying “wow” at everything you say to me. You are a writer, a teacher, an archeologist and a soon to be doctor all at the same time. Wow! Talk about being a possibility. I look up to you. And one day, I’d like to be a possibility as well.

That Tuesday ended with you bringing me home and a peck on my cheek. You don’t know how that made me squee the moment I close our apartment’s door behind me. 

I didn’t see you again after that night. 

It’s Tuesday again. Three weeks after I came back from my Christmas vacation and no hint of me-meeting-you being real, I am ready to let go of the possibility of seeing you again. So I went on with my usual lazy Tuesday routine. Passed by Sto. Domingo Church. I prayed for my family, my friends, my job and you. 

I was unusually picky on the jeepney I want to ride home. Spotted an uber yellow jeepeny and let myself in. Paid my fare and did my usual check-for-some-odd-looking co-passengers and there you were, seated right in front of me. I remembered my prayer, and said, “Lord, bakit parang ang bilis niyo naman po atang sinagot ang prayers ko?” waah!

You were sleeping. My heart beats so fast I can hardly breath. I didn’t know what to do. You woke up. I felt you looked my way twice, maybe trying to recognize me, but you didn’t say anything. I was so scared to look at you in the eye. I am not ready yet to confront what your eyes might tell me. 

I planned to say “hi” when we reach our stop since I thought we have the same one. Only to realize that your way home is not the same as mine. You just passed that way that night just so you could bring me home safely. So imagined my remorse as I watch you get off and walk away without saying anything. 

I thought maybe, you were waiting for me to say something or you just didn’t remember or recognize me, blame it on my new look, new hairdo and braces on. I was devastated and hated myself for being such a coward. I let my one chance slip just like that.

So, if you ever read this, please know that I remember you, every Tuesday and everyday. I don’t know when will I see you again, or if I’ll ever see you again. But who knows, It’s not a big world anyway. I’d like to believe that one day, one Tuesday, somehow, you’d say “hi” to me again, or I’ll ride that yellow jeepney again. I am not sure, I’ll never be. But for one thing,  if that happens again, I’ll sum up courage to say “hi” to you and make each yellow jeepney ride with you my regular favorite. 

P.S. 
 

I’m sure you don’t remember my name too (most people don’t), so if ever you want to find me. I am at the speech laboratory. You’ll know, when you see the sign. :)