Three things stand out in my childhood memories when I think of mom: boats, braids and books.
The last time my mother was on a plane was some time in the early 1980s, when she had to fly to Cebu for her mother’s funeral. If you think that’s ages ago, prior to that, the last time she boarded a plane was in 1968. It was on a flight to Legaspi where she and a few other Lea Productions stars were on their way to a Bicol roadshow. “Naku, hindi bumababa yung landing gear!” The way mom tells the story as if it had just happened yesterday.

In spite of the advances in aviation since, she still refused to get on a plane, much to my dad’s disappointment. And so family vacations to Cebu were always on board the trusted MV Sweet Lines which she loved and enjoyed so much.

In the summer of 1972, when I was about 7 years old, we had to rush home to Manila because my dad needed my mom for something urgent. Instead of taking the plane, which would have been so much easier, mom was adamant about taking the boat. Since we booked at the last minute, there were no more private cabins available. The air-conditioned areas with bunk beds were also all taken. Thus, we ended up in the tejeras (cot) section of the ship where the vast Visayan sea was only a few meters away from where mom and I slept.

Mom was already a popular actress at that time, but she didn’t give a damn if she had to sleep on a cot. We weren’t getting on a plane, and dad wanted us home. So there we were getting ready for bed, the sea waves gently lapping at the ship, lulling as to sleep. All of a sudden, mom brought out her white hanky (she always had a man’s white handkerchief in her bag) and used that to tie my wrist to hers! “What are you doing, mom?!” I asked. And she simply said, “Hmmph, eh kung magising ka o mag sleepwalk ka (which I never had a history of doing) tapos dumere-derecho ka sa dagat? Paano na?” So there we lay side by side, literally tied to each other, until sunrise.

Braids

From the ages of 8 to 10 or 11, mom and I had a morning ritual. After breakfast, I would go to her room and sit on the edge of her bed. She would comb my long black hair, twist and braid it. She would do such a great job that it was so tight and neatly pressed, there would be no need to redo it the rest of the day. I was Pocahontas before Pocahontas was in vogue.

Later on, it would become a sore point between me and my mom because I was already starting to get bullied in school because of those braids. I realized later on that perhaps since my mom wasn’t the cooking type of mama, her acts of love and service for me came in different forms—driving me to and from school, taking me out to eat, and braiding my hair each and every day no matter how late she was up shooting or taping the night before.

Books

Books were my best friend growing up, and Mommy indulged me because she was a voracious reader, as well. Cubao was our playground, and National Bookstore, first at Araneta Center and then at Ali Mall, was to my eyes, candy land.

On most Saturday mornings when mom didn’t have to tape for a show, we would leave shortly before noon, have a quick lunch and then spend hours upon hours browsing the shelves for books that caught our interest. Mom was such a suki at National that all the sales ladies were her friends. One of them, Ate Auring, became so close to us that she was almost like family. We always knew when there were new arrivals. Whenever I needed a book, all I needed to do was to call her up.

And on those book shopping sprees, no matter how many books I got, mom would never raise a fuss. “Make sure basahin mo lahat iyan, ha.” And because I knew that either she or my dad would eventually ask me about the titles I was reading, I would make sure that I did.

Now that mom is getting on in years, I am so glad that I have all these childhood memories of our time together to look back on. Her love made manifest in my life, in so many unique ways.

Happy Mother’s Day to all our mothers, and to all of us who mother!
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