Jeansen
It’s amazing what nostalgia does. In my case, it made me cry 15 hours before New Year, while watching an infomercial for hand dryers. For some strange reason, the hand dryer reminded me of home. And, home wouldn’t be home if not for the amazing but mostly grubby-while-little kids I grew up with.
I miss my sister Jeansen. I took care of her from the time I was 9 years old and she was 2 – when our mama died – until I moved out of Bohol to go to college.
Two nights before New Year, she called us, crying. She says it feels strange to spend New Year without her sisters.
I love Jeansen and I’m proud of her. She doesn’t party, she doesn’t shop, she doesn’t go out with friends. She stubbornly refuses to join beauty pageants because she doesn’t want distractions. She gets good grades even though she does all the chores at home. She said no when I offered to pay for rebonding because she says she’s a student and students have no business pampering themselves when they can’t pay for their vanities themselves.
Really, I’m proud of my sister. I don’t worry about her so much. I know she’s like the classic Timex watch: she can take a licking and keep on ticking. She’s kind, and thoughtful, and tough, and hardworking. Above all, she’s beautiful in the ways that matter.
My sister and my daughter
