To You, Lady of the Night

REMEMBERING OF THINGS PAST Through the present

WHEN I WAS STILL YOUNG, I used to visit our grandparents in Bansalan, Davao del Sur. This was during the early 80s when I was still fresh out of primary school and was curious about a lot of things. The street where my grandparents lived was at Dama de Noche, and they had this huge ancient house.

It was an old, two-story wooden joint. However, my grandparents weren’t the only ones who lived there. My uncle, dad’s younger brother, occupied the lower portion of the house. By the time I first visited there, it wasn’t much of a sight to see, except, of course, of its imposing figure, strategically located in the middle of some strange trees, indiscriminately crowding the house. Inside it was gloomy and quiet, the furniture archaic, but was often overshadowed by the vibrancy of grandpa’s personality, who always flashed his ready smile every we visit him. There was a creek in front of the house with a dilapidated footbridge, where I used to play with my brother after every meal.

We usually go to Bansalan during summers. Sometimes my parents used to tag me and my brother along at night to watch Shakespearean plays across the street at Holy Cross of Bansalan. There I felt the mood of the town at dusk; eerily quiet but has that cold breeze of an early morn. There used to be an old theater at the corner of Dama de Noche Street, where you could hear the bombastic sounds inside the theater from outside the building. And growing up in a big city, watching all these things unfold in front of you is a breath of fresh air, literally at times.

Our grand old folks had a store just outside their enchanting house. And one of the commodities we used to have from that tiny hoard is that good ol’ stick bread. This was when I start learning how to appreciate a cup of coffee and to dip that sorry bread on its boiling water. You can just imagine the taste of that bread the moment it lounges in your mouth, that’s more or less the flavor of enjoying a vacation in the province.

I had lots of fond memories in that town. Though we visited the place less and less over the years, I still want to visit that house and relive those moments, while bringing back special memories with it. My grandparents are long gone, but that dark, aged house, so says my relatives, is still standing. I wonder, though, if there are still fixtures inside it which reminds me of the time I last visited the place.

I guess I miss having a vacation like that. I doubt if my son could have that kind of break from his teachers, from his assignments, from his school activities, but he would opt to spend it with his gadgets and stuff instead, and couldn’t care less if he hasn’t gone out of the house and really play. That thing is long gone; it belongs to a different generation, a different era. But I had a great time at this old, ominous house along Dama de Noche Street.