That House, This House, That House

When I was in high school, I started planning to renovate my parents house. Not only as my expression of gratitude to my parents, but also as a gratitude to that house which has been a witness to my family's ups and downs and a refuge during a great trial.

How did we have this house? Here's the story...

That House First.

My maternal grandparents gave my mom and pa some good old house and a nearby piece of land good for having a small orchard of apple-guavas.

I have some pretty good memories in that house. Eating ice buko - or coconut ice pops - since it was the family's business some 20 years ago. I can still remember the three big freezers just placed in the terrace . A few 3-5 people came every morning to get the ice bukos so that they can sell them around town. They would come back in the afternoon to remit their sales minus the commission.

Ahh... some of my memories in that house are still very clear especially those when I was around 4-5 years old. I couldn't imagine I could have a crush on the ice buko vendor who was on his teens perhaps! Lol! I even played house with him as my husband (who was sound asleep at the terrace). I gathered leaves from the garden and assumed it was our food. And because I was too noisy while playing house, he was startled and showed me an angry face. It made me ashamed of course! Maybe because I disappointed my crush, haha! I can just laugh at my young self!

At that time, my Mama Sandra and Papa Buchok, my mom's siblings were also living with us in that house. I have a vivid memory of my Tita Sandra who suddenly felt her birthing pains with my cousin Lala. We were gathered in the living room and it seemed that the adults were having fun since all I can remember is that they were all laughing. Then, at once, Ma Sandra paused and grimaced. It must be really serious since it made everybody almost panicky. Some assisting her to the room, another person leading me away from it and my poor innocent mind was asking why I shouldn't be in that same room where my aunt is. Minutes later, a woman came and later did I know that it's Tita Neneng, our midwife. After all that fuss, I heard a baby cried.

Not all memories are good, though. Some are not so nice and yet they're there for some good reason!
After having her third child, Ma Sandra moved to another house which was also from their parents. Then, Papa Buchok got married and continued to live with us. My father, at that time, was a house husband, he's the one who took care of me and did all the household chores while my mom was teaching in a public school. Even though I was young, I could sense some conflict in the house. My father would sometimes look sad and mom and uncle talked in raised voices. Then, one afternoon, in the terrace, I saw mom and uncle facing each other, exchanging tense words...and then, right before my eyes, I saw him slapped my mom. A neighbor intervened. Nothing did I understand, except that they were fighting, there was hurting and there was hatred in me...

This House Now.

So, we moved. My parents built a house in front of that big old house because we couldn't afford to buy our own lot. And that house they built was more likely this bahay kubo I grabbed from Wikipedia:

 

This is a native house in the Philippines made of bamboo and nipa leaves. Yes, we fitted ourselves in this little house, all the 6 of us including our little baby girl, our youngest sibling. I also had plenty of memories here. One time, I didn't know where my mom was on that day and when Papa told me she went to the city, I grabbed this coconut husk and scrubbed the bamboo floor of the terrace. I thought mom would be happy if she sees it clean and shining! So even when the rain came, my papa couldn't force me to stop what I was doing. I was wet yet I continued to scrub! Hehe! What a head! So, when mom came home, she came home to a very sick daughter. :)

Soon after we moved, Papa got a job at the local mining and they afforded to hire someone to babysit my little sister and bring me to kindergarten. Then they were able to renovate our small hut using concretes. And it has become a little bigger and our memories with this house grew a little more each time.

Over the years of serving us, this shelter is already worn and torn, aside from the still unfinished parts. There are holes on the roof where the rainwater can happily make their entrance and wet our floors waiting for someone to slide,  there's no ceiling, walls undone and a lot more are needed for this house to be finally called complete.

That House I Dreamed.

Mark and I plan to buy our own lot this year. It is one step closer for us to finally have our dream house. A few years from now, we will be moving. But this makes me remember my first dream house and that is this house owned by my darling parents be renovated to the design they like.

I promised this to them, especially to mom. And I talked about this to Mark just last Sunday. I'm glad that he respects my desire for my parents. He doesn't have any qualms about it. Our condition is that, his salary goes to us and mine goes to fulfilling my first dream house! 

I pray that God would bless this dream!