Strings of Memory

Chapter 15

Kinuha ko ang bass at kinandong ito. When I placed my left hand over the neck and my right hand over the body, a shiver ran down my spine.

My heartbeat grew louder as I strummed, filling the room with the deep, familiar sound I had longed to hear. My fingers moved on their own, playing the notes from earlier, playing the melody of the bass my father gave me.

I missed this feeling. This heart-thumping, soul-stirring feeling I hadn't felt since that day, three years ago.

"Wynther, I have your snacks with me." Kasabay ng katok ay ang boses ni Mommy.

Napahinto ako. "Bukas yan," sagot ko, saka pinanood ang pagpasok niya sa kwarto.

Halos agad siyang natigilan nang makita ang bass sa kamay ko. Nanlaki ang mga mata niya, at may kung anong emosyon ang dumaan sa mga mata niya.

Napalunok siya bago lumapit sa akin. Inilapag niya ang tray ng pagkain sa study table ko at umupo.

"Why did you bring out your bass?" mahina niyang tanong. "I thought you didn't need it anymore?"

Tinitigan ko siya. I was wrong. I thought I didn't need it anymore. No, that's not it. I was just lying to myself, convincing myself that I didn't need it—desperately wanting that to be true so I could avoid the pain. I told her I didn't need it anymore, and I kept repeating that to myself, hoping it would become real. But it wasn't. It never was. 

I never hated it. I never wanted to let go of the one thing I loved. I only pushed it away because I was scared—because I was a coward. Feeling nothing was easier than facing the suffocating pain I felt three years ago. So, I abandoned it. I convinced myself I didn't need it, that I could live without it. 

But it was a mistake. Because no matter how much I tried to run from it, I still ended up here, holding it, playing it. And I still ended up loving it—just like before.

She waited for my answer, but instead, I found myself asking her, "Did you know I'd use it again? Is that why you brought it with us?"

Ngumiti siya. "I know how much you love the bass. Just like how much you love your father. Kaya alam kong babalik at babalik ka rito." Marahan niyang hinaplos ang pisngi ko. "You were just in pain, that's why you stopped. But now... I know I made the right choice."

Parang may kung anong humaplos sa puso ko dahil sa sinabi niya. She knew. She knew why I did it. And yet, she never stopped me. She never got angry at me for trying to abandon the one thing I loved. Instead, she brought it with us—because she believed. 

She believed in my love for the bass. She believed in my love for my father. She believed that one day, I would play again. 

And she was right. Because in the end, I still picked it up. I still played. Just like before.

Naramdaman ko ang unti-unting pag-init ng mga mata ko. At alam ko na nagbabadya nang mamuo ang mga luha doon, pero pinigilan ko iyon. I don't want to cry yet. I still had something to tell her.

Suminghap ako bago nagsalita, "Thank you, Mom." Ngumiti ako. Thank you for believing in your coward son.

Mas lumapad ang ngiti niya. "You're always welcome, my son," sagot niya bago lumabas ng kwarto.

Pagkaalis niya, doon ko lang hinayaang bumagsak ang mga luhang pinipigilan ko kanina.

That night, for the first time in years, I slept peacefully. And because of that, I ended up waking up late the next day.

"Wynther! You're going to be late!"

Sigaw ni Mommy mula sa labas ng kwarto ko, kaya naman nagmamadali kong kinuha ang mga gamit ko.