A Matter of Waiting

The problem with the future is that we don’t know how it will unfold. We can make some logical predictions based on history and observation, but there is always that x of an unknown that no one can anticipate. The vastness of predictive studies, and you can add the unscientific ones, could only comprehend things that have transpired.

Neat intro, huh? No? I thought I’d make a great impression. So what am I anxious about? In two measly weeks (as of the time I’m writing this piece) I’ll be joining the club of the big four-oh; entering the twilight zone where, they say, everything gets bad or good depending how you live your life. I’m the eldest in the batch so I get to become forty first. This post is about being that.

For a moment, be serious. Serious. Last December I accompanied Mayen for refraction. Since I was already there I thought I’d have my eyes checked too. The optometrist found out that I had some problems reading so she prescribed a pair of glasses. Again, a pair of glasses, for reading?!

Another story: I usually get up early to prep the kids for school. One morning while waiting for my coffee I found myself doing some stretches, things that I haven’t done for a long time. I had trouble reaching my shoulder blades with both hands. All the flexibility of youth gone.

Not only the physicals changed, so do interactions. Lately I’ve noticed that some people were addressing me with some politeness, or respect, depending on how you look at it. The “po” and “opo” are becoming frequent, and so is the dreaded “manong” as in “Manong, nag-submit na po ako ng requirements”. “Kuya” would have been better sounding, though both words mean the elder male sibling. But “manong” connotes not only seniority but also elderliness with eons of separation. You call someone a “manong” out of respect for the elderly; “kuya” is used mostly with affection, as in “Kuya sama ka sa gimik, ha”.

But is this what I should be anxious about? No…wait, yes. What’s the average life expectancy in these islands? Deduct 40, and viola! X more years to go.

Really now, anxious? About something inevitable?

Imagine on my 40^th birthday the world and its inhabitants will continue to live; some areas of Caloocan, Pasay and Pasig will again sink due to hundreds of hammerings; tongues will be knotted at Lovapalooza and elsewhere; a killing will be made by enterprising individuals in the chocolate and flower business; lovers await for their sweethearts for a tryst; and a million “I love yous” will be said. Then on my little space on the world you think I would sulk because of an anxiety attack. No way.

No way. Why should I sulk? A few more years and you guys will be in the same state and age as I am two weeks from now. It’s only a matter of waiting and our batch will all be members of the forty something crowd. That's when your stories about aging will be as good and horrid as mine.

And I’ll be waiting.