“For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,
with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in
Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up
together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we
ever be with the Lord” (1Thes. 4:16:17).
Despite the absence of a nanny, permanent or temporary, and the
overwhelming presence of chronic body pain and alarming aching knee, I
miraculously made it somehow to our class reunion last Saturday. Of course, I
came in late; I was just true to form, maintaining my untainted reputation from
the days in secondary, when I believed “L” in Ma’am Claire’s unquestionable
class record stood for “Lovely.”
Well, isn’t it lovely that there were instances when the same
class record by our lady mentor nonpareil showed that for the whole week I got
straight “A’s”? Definitely it isn’t, here “A” means “Absent,” but then in
America a school child with a straight “A” would end up an Ivy Leaguer and has
a brighter future to face.
But it’s also totally correct in my case, I nonchalantly live
now in a house facing the sun when it rises. And assured as well by the Word to
later live in peace, in the City where brightness would never cease.
Among the permissive perks and privileges of attending high
school class re-gathering is having the rare chance to let out a child in
everyone by turning back the hands of time again. Like, for once, you speak in
teener’s tongue with a rehashed joke you keep on delivering, or teasing the
same kid—now a quinquagenarian like you—with whom you were fondly kidding.
On the debit side, during the reunion, no way you could lie
about your age. You try to subtract a year or two and you’d see a raised
eyebrow from your classmates.
That same Saturday, our batch did elect a new set of officers as
our all-time favorite Diding P., as in President, and pending her pink slip or
clearance from physician, she begged off to relinquish the throne for the
moment. What surprised me a lot was when members of our class did nominate
perennial presidential candidates the latter were all as reluctant as ever.
I had a bigger surprise though however, when I terrifyingly
found out not one among them was my supporter after I nominated myself for
Class Treasurer. No, not even Imok, a close buddy, considered my nomination. I
grumbled quietly, do people easily detect a hidden intention?
After the peaceful and Smartmatic-free election, the chic and
always seductive Che was unanimously voted as the class’s new Her Majesty. And
all hopes were pinned on her regarding the next reunion when everyone would be
wishing to still possess their ageless beauty.
And as I quietly looked back at my alma mater over the hilltop
after I descended slowly, taking my last step before the gateway, I asked
myself, “Will I be alive the next reunion someday?”
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