The Long Way Up

1975. In the Queen City of the South. On an island surrounded by 7,106 other islands floating merrily in the South Pacific. I was delivered into human existence in a place considered beautiful for its abundant natural wonders, and economically strategic for its geographic location. That setting would make one think there would be no need or reason to leave. The island is Cebu. The city -- the Queen -- also bears the same name. On the country's map, it is located at the center of the Philippine Islands. This is perhaps the reason why this island province is called "The Heart of the Philippines". I was born in the Heart. Then I moved. As a five-year-old. I remember very little about that relocation; that very first one. What comes to me when I think about it was being on a boat, heading to one of the multitudinous islands in the archipelago. Upon arriving at our destination, I recall my family and I settling into the one half of a two-storey duplex with a beach ...

Almost forty-two years into this long-haul excursion called life and, still, the resident, wide-eyed, insatiable 10-year-old remains agog at the ever-changing painting of everyday existence. From the bold strokes on life's canvas to the minor flourishes randomly scattered with passion, he still has sights set on the attractive. He has an eye for beauty. He has an ear for harmony. He has hands that will gravitate towards crafting things that contribute elegance and appeal to just about anything that surrounds him. Ten. He receives the warmth of a vigorous embrace given from behind him by surprise. The giver: his father. The occasion: his day of birth. This memory has since stayed forever engraved in the deep recesses of his mind; tucked away in a private room of outstanding remembrances; unknowingly stored for future recollections of significant instances pertaining to relationships. Perhaps that storeroom might even be deeper than that. Twenty. He ponders on the ramificati...