Sisters Of The Sun

After J. Aquino

Our beginnings have long been buried under piles of rubble. Memories, almost forgotten, if not for some occasional flickers of light where our souls get to meet. Distance resonates our present, and if not for that single thread binding us both, our former lives would remain a legend. But behind the veil of time; of the passing age dividing our paths, I remain faithful to the days when we used to call ourselves sisters of the sun.

He was, as I recall, a rebellious sentience. He packs an attitude which caught the attention of our surrogate mother. Long before he was noticed, I became witness to the fierceness he now exudes. It was a Lenten afternoon many eons ago. While the pious ones remember how the almighty suffered, there we were, in a garage somewhere in Provident, passing the shot glass brimming with spirits.

I remember the moment he became upset when his father joined the merriment. He was new to the company then, and his true colors were still unknown to me. I do not remember the reason for his disappointment, nor the sharp words he threw at his father. What echoes inside my head were the two drunken people raising tension within our loose circle.

Many months have passed and I found myself entangled in a love affair at work. It was a wrong decision to give in and I paid the price with heavy suffering. The guy was a friend who got drunk and initiated the deed. We ended up in a motel. I was simply too giving to turn down his wish to get laid.

As I winced in pain - for a heart shattered into pieces - he suddenly appeared to mourn for my tragedy. His lanky frame served as my armor, and his refined features became a face to my rugged details. As I recovered my strength, he stayed and kept me company. In all my years of exploring, never did I imagine bringing a colleague to Malate.

But I did.

The memory of that one rainy midnight remains fresh, when he appeared in front of the house dressed up and ready to party. We sneaked out and cemented our friendship amongst the gay crowd showing up for the White Party. It was a night to remember, for it paved the way to learn things about each other. The morning after, we headed straight for work. Our bodies might be weary, but an alliance has been formed.

Years have passed and our pact brought down those who once bullied us. Our surrogate was the queen and so we were shielded against all offensive. Our chemistry worked wonders. He was my alter-ego, I was his brute force. We were both creative in our field - him being a painter, and I, a self-proclaimed writer. We had our differences, but it never kept us from performing well. We were a double-team in the account. We brought glory to the company.

A lifetime has gone by. He worked in call centers only to leave his jobs after a year of slaving. He never grew tired of searching: a place he could call his own. While I remained tucked in my little realm, waiting for the brown fields to turn green. Eventually, ascension finally caught up and in the weeks I sought my place, his longing to find his way back had born fruits.

A reunion took place two days ago.

A daughter returns.





Mami Athena and the boss welcomed our princess with open arms. Personally guided and mentored by me, he will start his re-training tomorrow.