It feels just like yesterday when I had to get up at 6 in the morning to go to my high school classes. Colegio de Santa Rosa was like a second home to me, having gone there for more than a decade, spanning elementary and high school years. My classmates and teachers have become a second family. Well-known and comfortable to be with.
In the quadrangle where we begin the day, we exchange stories just before the bell rings for the flag ceremony to begin. There we would stand in the hot sun clad in our pristine white blouses, long, chequered skirts (which has to be well past the knees to pass the nun's approval), white, ankle-knee socks and pulled-back hair. A picture of the quaint, dainty and demure colegialas.
Well, hardly. Once the final words of the morning prayer has been uttered and we've filed dutifully past the teachers and nuns, that our day really begins. Whispered chatter about boys, fashion and the like fill the halls. Alive and full of exuberance of emerging youth. And though in the voices one finds traces of the child, seen are evidence of the individuals that we would become. There were the usual beauties, the intellectuals, the sporty tomboys, and the active leader types. And, though there existed the usual cliques, we, as a group have never felt divided. Through the success that we reaped and even the misdeeds that earned for us punishments, we stood together.
On our graduation day, we promised to be friends and stay in touch no matter the consequences. It is only now that I realize, ten years after, that those sentiments, though well-meaning, were futile. We grew up, and in the process, grew apart from each other. We'll always look back on those days with a smile, even a wishful longing for that period in our lives when everything seemed so simple and uncomplicated, but the here and now is different.
We grew up to be women, most of us now already with families while some are busy with their careers.
It just feels amazing to realize that the school girls that we were before, studying and roaming about the halls of Santa Rosa, are now mothers and wives and career women. It feels like it was just yesterday when we were whispering to each other how strict Mrs Javier was, how busy Sr. Magda seemed to be, how sharp Mang Gula's memory was, and, wondering why Sister, who's so beautiful and poised, decided to become a nun.
Ten years have passed. How time flies...