Former Fuzzy Feeling

Here's a fond memory:

One evening, Yahya's mom Tita Irene took us to one of the condominium units the boys and I signed up to "agent" for [i.e. we sold them and earned a percentage]. We were in it for what little percentage we just might earn, but mostly, too, for the free dinners that almost always follows every "trip", and the extra time we could all spend monkeying around. That night, it was Yamani, Jill, Xaviere, Rommel, Yahya's sister Camille, and possibly even Bart, and myself. Yahya was out at a bar along Timog Avenue for a high school reunion. Tita Irene decided it would be fun to play a joke on him by calling him up on his mobile and threatening to crash the party, her, Yahya's Dad, and the whole lot of us. We'd parked outside the bar and made silly jokes heavy with half-truths and connotation, and sure enough, 15 minutes later, Yahya comes out of the bar, mobile in hand, pretending to be pissed but actually looking rather pleased about the attention we were all showering on him. I remember how close we'd all become then, that we had actually communicated through looks alone. We had a look that said, "Don't say nothing stupid now, the old folks are here". Another one said, "Let's pretend we're all going home after this and then meet up at Sarah's afterwards." There was also the classic, "We'll laugh about this later when no one else is listening." Sure, we said some things out loud, but we would continue the conversation in silence, or much later in the night at Sarah's little drinking place, or on a 5-hour phone conversation. I remember basking in their spoiling attention, how Tita Irene always reserved the front seat of her car for me in each trip, how nice she was.

When I recall moments like this, I think of winter-time. I love winter. The contemplation. The cold. The warm moments seem more pronounced in winter. The overall cozy feeling that seeps through me, like a huge, fragrant blanket around my shoulders. It reminds me of my good friends, like Alfie, and my first trip to Marawi City, our hang-out time with other good friends.

That former fuzzy feeling. Like coffee on a cold, cold day.

Just a day after that night rushed back to me, I got a phone call from Yahya. It was good to hear from him again after so long, my good, good friend Yahys. We hadn't talked in almost a year. We've been reduced to smatterings here and there, each one heading to a different direction. I wonder if we'll all stay friends; if, when things change, I'd be the same person they claimed to love having around.