The day after that exhausting World War (I’m glad to note that everything has just been forgiven and fine just within that day when it happened), was such a bright day. My mom was so excited that our eldest brother was coming home that day.
“Wake up! Wake up! We must prepare the spaghetti and grill the pork and get ready because he’s coming!” that was our wake up call that day.
You may be wondering why she was so excited of his coming back, considering that we used to see our brother everyday—used to. I know she missed him so much as much as kuya missed us. He even missed spending the Christmas and New Year celebration with us. Now you know why. So, where has he been all those times?
He is now working in a call center in Bacolod city. He has been there for over five months now. I think he’s doing well there. It wasn’t easy to settle to another civilization, even though he’s just on the same archipelago. Cebu and Bacolod are too different.
People from Bacolod thinks we, Cebuanos are of lowly class. I think they’ve got this superiority complex. They look down on us. Maybe because most of the Cebuanos who are staying there are those who are poor who just go to Bacolod and work there as taxi drivers, helpers and jobs of that sort. That’s why their perception of Cebuanos are the “baduy”. Well, they have a good sense of fashion but that’s all they got. They don’t have steamed rice which my brother missed so much. These are some of my brother’s personal testimonies. He learned much from them though.
My mother never approved that he would go to Bacolod but my brother’s so stubborn and has this fighting spirit to take his chances in going to Bacolod. While he was still settling there, he had trouble in finding money while he wasn’t receiving a penny yet from the company from where he is working. He got to ask my mom for money. That’s why my mom is so worried about him. He is the kind of person who is firm with whatever decisions he makes, though this character is good, this may still harm him. He never listened to my mom when my mom protested against his decision of staying in Bacolod. Now, do you get the idea of him being our prodigal son?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment