you, my friend, are reading a post written by an awed, soon-to-be godfather of a child of god.
two weeks ago, thereabouts, i received a terse but rather hard to download email. this from a lady friend (let's just put it at that) back in humid (sultry, i guess, is the better word) manila.
the email had this clunky attachment, a huge picture of a genial infant, practicing what could be his trademark killer smile later in life.
this is my friend's first born.
i emailed back to ask who's the father. typical, you might say of nosy me. until now, she has yet to respond.
but the no response, i take, doesn't strike me out from the earlier proposed list of her newborn's godparents, absentee or otherwise. i am this sanguine.
not only will this kid be my first godchild, but this one is special. miraculous, even.
you see, my lady friend-how should i put this with great delicacy?-is, well, no spring chicken. now there, i ruined it.
she was already in her mid forties when i left for the states. and she had this air of resignation around her as to finding what the chick lit she was reading at that time called rather irresponsibly as the beloved.
then one day, a day cribbed almost from the annunciation story, another friend of ours read her fortune. i ching, i remember. i did forget the exact hexagram reading. all i remember was that it did forebode well for coupling. heaven and earth in perfect syzygy for our now stirred friend.
i remember her calling me late that day to tell me somehow embarrassingly that she met this youngish man just after we split from our staid fortune telling session. oh, but he’'s an old soul. he’'s as skeptical of this world as i am, she sounded giddy.
then just a week before i had to fly here, she reluctantly introduced me to her new friend. and she was right. this young man was brimming with questions. of this world, and even beyond, wherever that might be. a telling quality, perhaps, of one who aspires to become a priest.
this dominican novitiate and my friend. oh, there was serious spark between the two. thorn birds spark.
i remember having had too much to drink during our introduction dinner. envy, perhaps, for my now immoderately happy friend.
my friend had to let me sleep in her condo that night for fear i might not make it safely home. the novitiate also slept over in her very clammy place.
i remember waking up suddenly at dawn. vaguely, i heard them. but vividly, i can still remember the whipping and snapping of the stiff window curtains just across the couch i was relegated to sleep in.
writing this post now, i am deeply saddened at myself. sad that i only saw before this monumental error, this transgression in their nascent union.
looking at the picture of this-is it?-grinning child, i am sincerely rueful. contrite that i failed to understand the mystery, a genuine holiness, in fact, of their relationship.
in the picture, my friend’'s new born child, my soon-to-be godson, looks noble in this pedestrian blue flannel unitard.
the shot must have been taken in the hospital nursery for he seems to be cradled in a rather sterile bassinet.
i smile while looking at the unpadded rails closest his head. they look like hammered silver halo spokes of ivory images from one of those coral stone churches established by enterprising friars.