Repost: Bye bye, baby

Bye bye, baby
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 01:17:00 05/05/2009

I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t grunt in protest or ask why. I just said yes, and nodded even though I meant no. And I couldn’t get off the wooden chair because I felt so heavy with disappointment and shame. After that discussion over dinner, the term adult never looked as vague to me. I thought it wasn’t real, just a cute accessory that looked like gold but was fake or the robe the emperor thought he was wearing when in fact he was naked.

Recently, my parents rejected my plan to work in Manila. I wouldn’t survive it, they predicted. I was devastated.

Here’s the thing. I have always been good with goodbyes. I move on very easily after I lose a phone, and it is not because I don’t realize its value but because I know that I gave a stranger an advanced Christmas gift. When a loved one leaves for foreign shores, I know that he would be better off there. Or when I drop a coin, I just think about how it will travel around the country or land in the hands of somebody who needs it badly. I have this positive outlook on goodbyes, but I guess I didn’t acquire it genetically.

Whenever I think of kindergarten, I am reminded of the birds. Our teacher told the story after siesta time when the other kids were still feeling sleepy. I didn’t know for what purpose she told it, but I am sure it made a lot of sense to me.

She told us that birds make good parents. They build nests for their young, feed them every day, and protect them from predators. But there is one thing grown-ups don’t do for their young and that is to teach them how to fly. They don’t teach their young how to flap their wings or glide in the air. In fact, biologists tell us that some parents simply push their chicks out of their nest so that they will learn how to fly. It’s nature’s way of saying that learning does not always have to be vicarious. Those young birds will have to learn flying the hard way.

Today I am 20, a fresh graduate from college, and unemployed. I still live with my parents in our rural home. Our family is not well-off so working is the next step for me.

It came as a shock to me when my parents said they wanted me to stay in town. It looks like a good idea—if I can find my first job here. I will have free meals, a privilege I didn’t have when I lived in the city and went to the university. I will get free rides, even though I don’t really mind commuting. I will have free board and lodging, too. So staying is a very practical move.

But it doesn’t seem to be much of a challenge to me. I soon found myself thinking about how boring it would be to wake up each morning to the sound of cocks crowing and see the same old neighborhood when I walk out of our gate. Soon, I will be sleeping all day long during weekends and whine that our hometown doesn’t have a movie house. My mom will still be washing my clothes and ironing them, afraid that I might burn all my shirts on the ironing board. In the long run, I will die from feeling bad about not being a responsible adult.

Here’s what I want to do: I want to burn eggs in the pan, dislike the taste of my coffee after putting too much sugar into it, and make a few chrysanthemums in the backyard wilt. I want to do things so badly that I would be determined to learn how to cook, to make a good coffee or do some gardening. I want to destroy a shirt on the ironing board. I want to burn one, two, or three, until I learn to slide the iron well.

But I wouldn’t be able to fend for myself if I stay in town. I want to make things right by knowing what is wrong. I want to commit mistakes and learn from them, not by having somebody lay down the moral of every story. I want to answer the quiz first before I learn the concepts.

I do well with goodbyes, but being independent is not the kind of goodbye that is easy to say. In the case of parting with my parents, it would mean leaving my comfort zone—the lovely home that nurtured me well and gave me the best of everything. Nobody will be waking up baby in the morning so he can eat a ready-made breakfast; I’d have to make one myself. Nobody is looking out for baby while he is at play; I’d have to manage my own affairs. Nobody is feeding baby the right formula; I’d be responsible for putting food on my table. Nobody’s chewing for baby before he swallows the food because you see, baby has to be a man.

I appreciate the effort of my parents to make things easy for me, but I think I wouldn’t be able to appreciate adulthood if I don’t see its face. I cannot afford to learn the basics when I’m already 40, which would be a great pity. There’s no better time than now for me to start acting like an adult.

Harsh and risky as it may sound, I think it’s time my parents pushed me out of the nest. Perhaps I will fall the first time and get some limbs broken and bruised. The second time, I might still struggle to stay in the air. But after that, who knows, I might be able to complete my first flight to the next tree. I will fall sooner or later, so that I can rise up again and fly. Learning to fly alone is worth the risk.

see link at http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20090505-203112/Bye-bye-baby