I remember our old house in Marikina. There was a sink in the garage-slash-backyard. Right across was our macopa tree.
And I remember this old picture taken there. I was in leotards and tights right beside my mom who was in sweat pants. We had our arms stretched out as if in dance class. That was my idea of ballet. I remember I wanted to be a ballerina so bad. I would ask my parents to take me to ballet school.
I never got around to taking ballet because, my mom would always tell me, my dad didn’t want me to have no boobs and ugly toes. So yes, I am thankful, because I have non-ugly toes and… well, let’s just say I don’t exactly have little boy’s chest. Haha! But I guess more than anything, I’m grateful because I had those “ballet lessons” in the garage with my mom. I don’t remember much but I remember that picture. And I remember my smile.
Some people say it gets better and I want to believe that it does. But there are days when nothing else can make you feel better than a good cry.