Stumbling Down Memory Lane

I hurriedly ran toward our school’s entrance with my heart beating so fast as I managed to look at my watch. It was obviously supposed to be on my wrist. If only I knocked some sense into myself. I was too busy constantly refreshing my email last night, expecting something from DOST. So much for being “financially stable.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I noticed how unusually quiet it was, while my sweat kept dripping. I immediately proceeded, eyeing every yellow tape-arrow in my path.

“Ineng kailangan muna i-fill out ang contact tracing form bago pumasok. Pacheck din po ng temperature at makikiiwan dito ng permit.”

My eyes widened as I took a few steps backward without looking back, and I did as our manong guard suggested. Although, I did kind of panic when he mentioned the word “permit.”

If only I had managed my sleep.

Without making any eye contact, I handed over the contact tracing form and went inside. My heart was still beating quite fast, even though quite some time had already passed since that marathon. My eyes darted from corner to corner, processing the quiet scene before me—a far cry from the busy hallway I used to squeeze through. Well, it was, not until I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Then suddenly, I missed the peaceful scenery of before.

“Hi, excuse me. Alam mo ba kung nasaan ang canteen?”

I hesitantly pointed my fingers towards where the canteen is and instantly lowered it down.Eventually, I stood admiring the now dusty old trophies from before, which had significantly symbolized Teresian pride. Maybe, just maybe, the worn-out color and the faded text embedded in each one of these indicate what we have left behind.

When I arrived at the canteen, it seemed like it would have been impossible to find my classmates in this crowd, had our class president, Joyce, not waved her hand.

It felt like a reunion, with almost every student present talking non-stop. They had certainly waited for this day to come. After all, we have endured two years of settling with meetings and chit-chats over our screens due to the pandemic. Staring blankly at my noisy friends, I began to fidget my hands.

“...kaya ayun, nahulog sa kisame yung shorts ko.”

“Sooooo, balik sa pinag-uusapan natin kanina, may plano na ba kayo after nito? Ikaw, Teresa?”

“Teresa? Ayos ka lang?”

“Ha? Naglag, sorry, I mean—”

An unstable internet connection would be really useful right now. But, hey, at least we had a good laugh about it and honestly, I missed being part of “the noisiest class” our former teachers have entitled us.

Stumbling Down Memory Lane

Far away from where I was seated, I noticed a group of tough-looking men wandering around the campus grounds. At least six towering bodyguards were tall enough to cover what appeared to be a VIP guest. I couldn’t see who the person was, so I decided to listen to my classmates’ conversation instead.

Our conversation went on until someone came up from behind me. It was our class adviser, gesturing us to lower our voices and fall in line. Everyone at the table rose to their feet and made their way to the gymnasium.

I spent each second looking for telltale signs of change. Starting with my batchmates, some of them matured a lot, as if puberty hit them like a truck. With the face masks on, they were even more unrecognizable. There were also a number of students with colored hair, which I hope they dye black in time for graduation. Old tarpaulins on-display were now barely hanging. The benches were rustier. The back of the gymnasium, which used to be full of mud and dirt, is now covered in concrete. The chairs were still a bit dusty—well, that’s an understatement. Years in the stock room did not do them any favors.

Despite these changes, some things remained the same. Like my constant fear of the gym’s two giant fans falling. Ignoring that thought, I shifted my attention to the large projector placed at the center of the slightly decorated stage.

Our class president’s picture flashed on the screen for the fourth time, and she walked across the stage. I couldn’t help but think about how sore her feet were from walking up and down the stairs in heels.

Right, had she ever stumbled, she would have continued walking forward.

I glanced over to my left in an attempt to distract myself from all these thoughts. From a different perspective, I saw the same group of men from earlier. Now, I can see who the supposed VIP guest was. It was the town’s mayor. He walked towards the stage and started shaking hands with each student that walked across the platform.

I almost forgot to stand up when it was our row’s turn because I kept on zoning out. As steadily as I possibly could, I walked across the stage. With a big smile, I shook hands with the politician. He leaned forward, which caught me off guard. My smile grew wider as he handed me the letter of acceptance I had been waiting for since last night.

“Congratulations!”

SHANELLE ANZEN A. GELERA

RACHELLE ANN M. CIUDAD