The Old Folks Way: The Worn Clothing

Folklores and some back story....on how I met the first love of my life. Whew!😅

According to my old folks, if you feel deep sadness brought by missing or longing for someone, you just have to collect the person's worn clothing and smell its natural scent. The natural aroma is perceived to have the power to create an illusion that the person is physically present beside you. It might seem weird but back in the day, I believed its effectiveness. 

Growing up, I was named as "Balay-Balayon" or someone who feels uneasy in other people's homes, preferring to be in my own house. Part of being an introvert, maybe. While my younger siblings had no problem sleeping over at our relatives' home, I, on the other hand, would cry all night until somebody took me back home, nevermind if it was in the middle of the night. It always happened during a sleepover. I just couldn't be away from home because I easily miss my parents. My designated sleeping spot was always next to my father, under his armpit. I knew he would leave the spot to lay next to my mother if I am confirmed asleep but making me sleep had to be like that or I wouldn't be able to sleep the entire night. This continued until my mid-teens when I had to leave home to attend college in the city. It was the start of a huge challenge!

The first month of living in a dormitory was a disaster. I shared the room with three other students, two of whom were my classmates in High School. Noise and privacy were my major concerns, apart from the overwhelming feeling of homesickness. I missed my parents terribly and feared being away from home for the first time. It wasn't just 15 minutes away, but more or less 1 hour away from home. Following my old folks' belief, I brought worn clothes of my father and mother, which I hug during bedtime. Doing that calmed me down and lessened my fears for a little bit, allowing me to drift off to sleep.

As time went by, I grew accustomed to being away from home. The difficulties I faced in school helped me to push aside my intense homesickness. I was pressured into pursuing a degree in BS Accounting, which was not my first choice, and the challenges were incredibly tough. I had wanted to study Information Technology or Computer Science but my parents had their hearts set on me working in a bank someday, so I had no choice but to go along with their wishes, striving to live up to their expectations. To all parents out there, please stop this kind of torture. Let your teens have the freedom to choose what they want to pursue in college.

Eventually, I dropped out of school. I couldn't bring myself to do something I didn't truly want, or perhaps I was simply learning to be stubborn. Living the city life and meeting new people made me learn new things. I mustered the courage to stand and decide for myself. I dropped out and went farther home, to the capital city, Manila, where I could be unreachable. I, myself, was amazed by my own determination, while my parents called it hard-headedness.

I stayed at my aunt's in QC and immediately started looking for a job. I didn't mind whatever job it was, I just wanted to earn. I landed into a house help job. It was easy-peasy, I was a natural clean freak even in our own house. My parents learned about it and again encouraged me to continue my studies in Manila and that my cousin in Germany would sponsor everything as long as it was accounting, but I declined. I have decided to pursue a career in IT, so I was determined to work hard and save up enough money to fund my studies. Later on, I met new friends who introduced me to a job that paid more, a waitress in a pub. So I ran away from my aunt's home and joined with those new friends. I was MIA from my entire family for a year. That's when my life turned for the worse. It was a different story but I do not want to talk about it now. 

Fast-forward, I landed a job quite close to my heart, a computer attendant. It was a job that brought me immense joy as I was able to engage in tasks that I truly enjoyed; working in front of a computer. That opportunity turned out to be a blessing in disguise as it led me to meet my first love; the person who saved me from my mess and loved me wholeheartedly regardless of my flaws, the owner of that black tank top I was hugging in the picture. He was an American soldier stationed in Iraq. After a few months of talking online, he decided to come and visit me in the Philippines. We personally met in 2006. Our connection deepened after the meeting, and we fell in love. 

Due to the distance between us, with him working far away and only able to visit every four months for a brief period, I made it a point to keep some of his worn clothes so that I could feel his presence through his lingering scent. Yes, I applied my old folks way so I would not drown myself into deep sorrows of longing for a loved-one. Weird, yes? But it worked! 😀