That feeling when you saw on TV a street that you used to cross when you were in college. You remember the heat of the air, the colors of the surroundings: the barbecue grills, fishballs deep-fried in dark cooking oil, smoking students while in still their uniforms, sipping Cobra Energy Drink or Sting, and the San Sebastian Church looming like a vigilant, yet tolerant, sentinel.
You remember the girl you were once with, crossing this street. The two of you thought you love each other. You remember how her hair swayed as she walked, her front teeth, the red backpack she always carried, which you always offered to carry, but she always refused because she loves carrying that bag as if it held all of the memories in her life that she treasured so much. You remember the cigarettes the two of you were smoking and how the smoke formed transparent lines that curved into the empty space, leaving no trail of their existence.
You remember the countless hours you spent waiting for the next jeepney and how, once it arrived, you wrestled with the crowd, all the while pulling her hand, just so you could get a seat and arrive at her place, where the walls are silent and the ceiling whispers no judgment.
Seeing the street on TV, you suddenly remember how all those times are now lost. And that now you are married to a different girl, and a child is smiling at you, calling you "daddy". And then you remember that memories are just memories, their realities has passed, and to be honest, you aren't quite sure if everything happened the way you remember it.
All you know is that there is the present. The on-going "wow" is happening "right now", some old movie said. And it's time, you tell yourself, to make more beautiful memories.
