Looking back is a strictly senior privilege, deserved for having lived long enough, such that there’s more of their physical lives in the past than in the future.

I say this not in any morbid way, but in the sense of having arrived. Old age is, after all, a destination not reached by everyone. It’s a peak from where we can survey the vast past and continue to wonder about the future. It is, as they tell us, with some urgency, the here and now!

“Now” could still last a while. Or so hopes an uncle in Los Angeles, California. Still lucid at 96, he means to stretch his own “now” to 103. Vergel and I, comparatively late starters in the marriage game, are still making memories to catch up with some of my peers.

Anyway, looking back is not a bad idea, especially for setting things right, or even changing course. It can be a gratifying exercise in itself. And, like drinking wine, it is best done in proper company.

 Shared memories

I, Teresita, consider myself lucky to have grown up with two female first cousins, Regina and Sylvia, in our paternal grandparent’s home. We share many things in common, aside from gender. We are all firstborn to the first three sons of Lolo and Lola—and, oh, we have accumulated memories galore!

In our preteens we met Ana Belen (or Bea), a firstborn grandchild herself of our grandparent’s best-friend couple, the Lopez-Rizals. Another commonality is none of us had a sister, except Regina, but hers came many years later.

We solidified our friendships even more after an epidemic of teenage elopements hit our generation, prompting our parents and grandparents to take drastic steps: they sent us to Spain right after our high school graduation, ostensibly for some culture and, generally, proper growing up. It would seem we were being rewarded for the perceived misconduct of some peers.

Sisterhood

During those bonding years in Madrid, the sisterhood of the RATS was born, with Ana Belen providing us the lone vowel, A, for the acronym. I’ve been thriving in their company ever since, and reminisce best with them.

Bea and I did some things together in Madrid. I accompanied her to her piano lessons with José Cubiles. I went willingly for the chance of hearing the master play which he sometimes did and Bea herself, a pleasure to listen to herself. In fact, Cubiles thought her hands were perfect for piano, if only she would practice as much as he required. She still plays, and when she does I somehow still hear the promise that Cubiles heard in her.

Mother hen

She gave it all up to raise her family, even as she took care of her own mother-in-law, and eventually her own mother, who lived to the ripe age of 99. She now takes care of her last living aunt—all of 102! She turned out to be the best nurturing mother hen of us all.

There was a time we shared a hospital room and an obstetrician-gynecologist for a tubal ligation. We had married the same year, just four months apart, and had lived abroad at about the same time, she in London and I in Houston, Texas. We decided together that, I, after four children and she after five, had contributed enough to the population explosion.

I remember we had already been given anesthesia, when a nun appeared questioning the procedure, since we were not yet 40. At that late hour, she required a signed permission from a priest or she would not allow us the use of the OR.

After a frantic search on the premises, they found a Jesuit who quickly gave it, based on the number of children we already had. By then our anesthesia was wearing off and we had to be given another dose, which proved too strong. Although we slept longer than expected we were aware whenever our doctor would come in to check on us. Every time he left the room, we’d both laugh!

First grandmas

Bea and I became first grandmas on the same year, same month, August 1990. Bea and I were especially attached to our first grandchildren. We had taken a picture of her Ana Erika and my Carlo lying in the same bed, and, to stretch the situation to a more serious metaphor, we jokingly promised one to the other in marriage.

The scheme never materialized; they never even met. My grandson flew with his mom to Maui when he was three, and came back only for short visits. Herself born in the US, Erika lived there until she came back to get a college degree. She lived with her Mama Bea and Lolo Ric.

Carlo has found himself a partner, but marriage is not in his immediate plans. Last Saturday was Ana Erika’s wedding. It certainly brought back such poignant memories I was not surprised to see Bea tearing up and feel myself doing the same at some moments.

 Familiar faces

The RATS were there, with Regina one of the sponsors. I looked around at the familiar faces of older guests in the reception and they were, like us, the oldest most intimate friends of the grandparents of the bride.

I realized how long our friendships have grown. Especially missed were our own parents, close friends themselves, as were our grandparents. We are the grandparents now.

Widowed, Regina and Sylvia continue to live active and fulfilled lives. Me—I’m on my second, happy marriage. Ana Belen and Ric celebrated their 50th last year. It’s with a sense of wonder, I say, the past was a blast, and our “now” itself isn’t bad at all!