A childhood friend from International School in Manila found me on Facebook. It's hard to explain what it is like for me to be remembered by people I knew in the Philippines. With relatives, it's expected. But the 3rd grade, not so much. Maybe it's because of the circumstances of how I left school in Manila or my intermittent attendance -- whatever it is, I have always thought of these classmates.
This girl was the richest person in a school of rich people. I can't even begin to describe her house -- a white mansion with a blue tile roof, a guardhouse, dogs patrolling the property. She had a Hello Kitty bedroom.
If I ever go back to Manila, I wonder how I'd feel. There is a deep attachment even now. I think it's a bit unusual because I was fairly young when I left and I am, for the most part, completely assimilated. But my Tagalog is almost perfect, I know big words. People are surprised at what I remember when kids who left later than I did claim to remember nothing.
My good memory is a kind of currency. I didn't set out to do this, but I have learned that people like you simply because you remember small details about them. And why not? I can see the allure--it's the same thing as my getting happy that Guada remembers me--it is existential reassurance.
This weekend, my friend CHS was here. I admitted to my clinginess and she was surprised. She said she thought I was a person who could take it or leave it (I'm paraphrasing). I won't deny that it's easy for me walk away, but it comes at a high price. When I fall in (romantic/family/friend) love, it's pretty much a guarantee that it will last a long time.
I can't manage any more than this tonight.
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