Ghosts on a Hot Sunday Morning

I thought I forgot all about them. Then suddenly I heard a creak, the opening of an old wooden chest filled with memories. Dust subtly danced through the air slowly reaching where my feet have been before I instinctively stepped backwards.The room suddenly smelled of old books, of damp wood, of drawings that were once colorful, of paper that were once white as snow, of ink blots that once were bright, of plans that were once clear cut.

I received a call from mom yesterday, one of those “update calls.” I don’t know why, but whenever she would ask how I’ve been or what I’ve been up to lately, a few sentences would eventually result to deafening silence, as if telling me I had too little happening in my life. Then she told me that my brother was now flying to Washington DC to attend this orientation/short course/convention for those applying for med school scholarship (kinda like Intermed in UP).

Then suddenly all of my frustrations came rushing. I took BS Pharmacy in UP thinking it would be a good pre-med course. However, upon finishing the course, starting a new one seemed impractical already. My dad wouldn’t be able to get me through med school with our finances anyway, and I had to start working to help my dad with my half brothers.

I’m a firm believer that all things happen for a reason, God’s reasons, no matter how incomprehensible they may seem, have been my seeing cane in travelling life’s blind alleys. And in all situations, He has provided generously. I’ve trusted my family and work life to Him, and so far, He hasn’t failed me. When I needed to pay my brothers’ tuition fee, He gave me my first real job that paid me three times the minimum salary.

For two years now, most of my savings went to help out my fam'ly. Although the fact that I am given a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction, I sometimes can’t help but wish that things turned out differently. And each year, as my salary increased, transferring from one company to another, responsibilities increased almost proportionally, thus the never ending frustrations.

Then all the “what if’s” mischievously whispered to my almost deaf ears. What if my dad allowed me to go to the US when I was 7 years old? What if I pursued enrolling in some state-run or city-owned med school? What if I took risks in going for my dream? Would I have had the same opportunities that my brother is now having? Would I have been the same person as I am today?”

Seeing my best friend finish her PharmD course enabling her to get her license to practice in Florida, my barkadas starting their clerkships in PGH, my blockmates finishing their Pharm units in Toronto for their licensures… a picture of me became unattractive all of a sudden.

And as I struggle to get myself enrolled in Pharmacology or in Clinical Research Management, I always say to myself, “Am I in the right direction? Should I change roads?” I’ve planned that by the time I turn 28 I would have gotten my Masters degree, my PhD or my PharmD by 33. For now I have to settle for what I am able to do out of those freaking old plans.

Freaking memories. Freaking dreams. Freaking circumstances. That freaking old chest.

I’ll sit on top of that chest for now to keep it closed, with that monster struggling for air, shaking the chest almost vigorously. From where it got its strength, I really do not know.

And as I stare into this dusty hot Sunday, it whispers, “Soon you’ll have to let me out.”

… Soon you’ll have to let me out.

… Soon you’ll have to let me out.

Tonight, that sinister voice shall visit me in my dreamless sleep. I hope I’ll be ready.