THE ADORER’S BLOGS (A Short Story-1st of 7 Parts)

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The year was 2051 and it was my grandma’s 60th birthday. My parents were making sure that it would be a very memorable celebration. The services of a caterer and an event coordinator were acquired to ensure that the nitty gritty details of the affair would be taken care of.

Our ancestral home was bustling with so much activity. People were all over, most of them were in our sprawling front yard pitching tents, positioning tables and chairs, and decorating a makeshift stage. A few were in the lounge and in the terrace for curtains and decorations while the others are in the kitchen cooking. In the backyard was where the butchers worked on pig and cow carcasses making the place  messy and smelly. Thanks for the pig being roasted in an adjacent vacant lot. Its  delectable aroma countered  the nauseating smell of blood and uncooked meat.

It was not, however, with the big celebration that I was excited about but rather with my grandma’s promise that she would show me the blogs posted by one of the many men who fell crazy for her when she was still young. I was wondering how blogs looked like when my grandma was still young. But more than that was the curiosity developed by my grandma’s constant mention of the man who she never thought would profess so much affection for her, more than the affection showered to her by anyone. But whenever I would ask if she also loved the man, my grandma would only smile but refuse to answer. No matter how adamant  I would be in pressing for an answer she would just stare at me and smile. And when one time I asked why she did not end up marrying the man, she retorted, “Better if you just read later what he wrote for me in his blogs!” How frustrated I would be if she would just state the same line for whatever questions I would be asking about her  mysterious adorer.

She started telling me about the man and his blogs  five years ago, that was after my grandpa died. Grandma said that grandpa did not know about it. And since then my curiosity about the man and his blogs grew ever so strongly. My grandma promised to finally show me what her mysterious adorer wrote about her in his blogs only when she  turns 60, and that was that night. Five years of waiting would be over.

The adorer’s blogs were purely personal, not interconnected or socially networked in the blogosphere like most blogs. Those blogs were even classified as “private,” thus, it could not be read by anyone else but the blogger himself. That was according to my grandma. But before that man left to pursue a career overseas, so my grandma can also access his blogs, he left for her a note containing the blog’s account name, the corresponding password and a short message. Grandma kept that note carefully, she had it mounted on a cardboard and carefully wrapped with a plastic cover. She gave me a glimpse of it after my grandpa’s demise but did not allow me to read the message. I tried to sneak into her room several times and tried to find it but grandma was so clever, she kept it so tightly.

Nothing seemed to interest me that night but the moment when finally grandma would reveal to me everything. Not even the seemingly endless stream of foods and drinks and the presence of relatives and friends would distract me from the desire to know more about my grandma’s adorer. How I wished the celebration would be finished early, if not abruptly ended.

Anxiously that I waited until the last of the visitors went out. It was almost  midnight when the caterers left hauling with them their materials and equipment. Even my dead-tired parents proceeded to the bedroom and took their well-deserved rest.

My most awaited moment came. I proceeded to the gate but before I could close it, an old car stopped. That vintage car looked familiar, for many times that I have seen it in the past. It was a Mercedez Benz car that came out of the market during the 2020’s. It would always roll off  slowly whenever it passes by our house. It was for the first time that it made a stop.   It was my intention not to mind whoever was on the car fearing that the one driving may be a visitor who would require the attention of my grandma thereby unnecessarily prolonging my agony of waiting for the realization of grandma’s promise.

To my surprise the driver disembarked and walked towards the gate. I tried to walk away pretending not to have seen him. But much to my chagrin he called me out. “Hi young man, may I have a moment with you?”

With a heavy heart  I approached him. The driver was an old man, approximately in his 80’s or a little less but looked trim and healthy. “Good evening hijo,” he said, “please give this to your grandma. My apologies for the bother…”

“No worries sir! You are welcome! I replied.” It was an old-fashioned birthday card that the old man handed me. I didn’t realized that such stuff still exists.

“Thank you. Good night!” said the old man.  He gave me a tap on the shoulder, went back to his car then rolled off slowly. As I close the gate I noticed that the car parked in a nearby roadside under a bright light post, in front of a newly-built bungalow.

 TO BE CONTINUED…

Image Source: flickrhivemind.net

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About Hardpen

Teacher-Writer Hardpen is my nom de plume. My real name is Massuline Antonio Dupaya Ligaya. Many times I was asked the question, "Why do you write?" I don't write for rewards nor adulation. When I write poems, stories or essays, seeing them completed gives me immense joy and satisfaction. The happiness and sense of fulfillment I feel when completing my works are my rewards. When I teach, I don't work but I play. The classroom is my playground, the students are my playmates, and the subject is our toy. Proud to be me! Proud to be a FILIPINO! TO GOD BE THE GLORY!

Posted on October 10, 2013, in Creative Writing, Literature, Writing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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