A Happy Childhood

(5th of ‘My’ Series)

In grade school, the block around our street turned into a little universe of its own. Every afternoon, as the sunset began to assert itself, I’d hear the laughter and the joyous squeals coming from outside our fence. Someone would shout the first invitation to play. Within minutes, children would materialize from every doorway, some barefoot, some slippered, while others came with their fancy rubber shoes on. Each carried nothing more than their own boundless energy and imagination.

Before long, our quiet neighborhood became a fun-filled kiddie kingdom where we played Pinoy kiddie games such as patintero, tumbang preso, holen, syato, or teks. These games remain close to my heart, for they developed me in more ways I could imagine. Patintero taught me anticipation and patience. Tumbang preso taught me agility and quick response. From holen (or marbles), I developed my accuracy and strategy. All these games helped me grow up better prepared for the nuances of future adulthood. We needed no gadgets, no expensive toys, only friends and enough daylight to squeeze one more game before Mama called us home for dinner.

We played under the bright sun, and sometimes – with Mama’s permission – under a clear silver full moon; our laughter piercing the silence of the night. We would search the canals for lost marbles or other hidden treasures tucked away, unmindful of any health or cleanliness issues, unmindful of the occasional malodorous smell, hoping that our not-so-clean treasure hunt would yield joyous finds.

Summers meant beach days, where the sand and the sea shared their stories with us, even as our skin got burnt from too much sun.

School brought a new kind of team sport: basketball. My Papa bought me a basketball one Christmas, a gift that lit up my heart and deepened my involvement in the game. Basketball became a friend I could run to like a loyal dog. Looking back, I realize Papa wasn’t simply giving me a basketball. He was giving me permission to dream for a bright, yet fun-filled future.

Then came the Philippine Science High School, or Pisay, as she was fondly called. Walking through the gates of Pisay felt like entering another world altogether. I felt my maturation process hastened as the academic competition became more intense. Still, my high school stint further sharpened my sports-skills as well. I found my stride as a player-coach, guiding my teammates and learning the rudiments of leadership and the value of listening as much as I spoke. From my first year through third year, I wore both roles – as player and coach – with pride, grateful for every new experience that turned into lessons in leadership and camaraderie.

Then came a sudden shift in my world – moving from the intensity of Pisay back to Divine Word College in Tagbilaran. I was struggling academically, and the rising tide of student activism in Manila had begun to pull me in a different direction. Before I knew it, I was sent packing for home in Tagbilaran to finish my high school years. There, the environment was so much different, so laid back. There, the basketball court would help me find my footing. The game became a major part of my acceptance to the community. And I’d like to think I was evolving into a reliable point guard – someone who could lead with confidence and a steady hand.

Around that time, I discovered another fulfilling endeavor: sportswriting. Basketball first taught me to love and enjoy the game. Journalism taught me to analyze it. It started as a natural extension of my Pisay days, where I chose Journalism as my elective over the different foreign language offerings. The habit of watching, noting, and telling stories still remains with me; and even now, I find myself returning to my writing desk regularly, because sports still holds a special place in my heart.

Looking back, I’m grateful for those early days of sun and games, for the friendships that added so much color and excitement into my life, and for the teachers and mentors who showed me that effort and heart can carry you far. I carry those memories with me as my little badge of honor, trusting that the future holds brighter paths to run, write, and remember – with the same innocence, gratitude, and wonder that filled my happy childhood.

Years later, I would realize that those carefree afternoons had been quietly preparing me for life. The playground taught teamwork before the Army ever did. Basketball taught leadership before I wore a uniform. Journalism taught me to observe before I ever wrote articles or speeches. Looking back, I see that childhood is never wasted. It is where the foundations of adulthood are quietly laid, one game, one friendship, and one ordinary afternoon at a time.

Cover pic courtesy of YouTube. Other pics courtesy of Pinterest, Instagram, DreamsTime, Facebook, Global Campaign for Pace Education, New York Times and the Holgy Library.