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I am Jamila. I do not forget what I have seen. Eloisa began bringing me to the nursery every afternoon. She would sit and talk while gently touching her growing belly.
Alam mo ba, Jamila, noong bata ako, ikaw lang yung parang naiintindihan ako kahit hindi ka nagsasalita.
She told many stories about her childhood, the lonely days, the secrets she whispered to me, and the comfort she found in my silent presence. Her husband sometimes sat with her and listened.
Siya yung naging dahilan kung bakit ako naging matatag, Mahal. Kahit manika lang, parang may buhay siya kapag kasama ko. Eloisa said while looking at me.
I observed how her voice changed when she recalled painful memories. Water would appear in her eyes again. Her husband would kiss her forehead after. I still do not understand why humans press their lips on others.
As the days passed, Eloisa began speaking to the baby inside her while holding me.
Bernadette, ito si Jamila. Magiging kaibigan mo rin siya, anak. Ituturo niya sa’yo kung paano maging matatag.
I remained still. I recorded every word and every movement. The golden thread in my dress caught the sunlight as Eloisa rocked slowly in the chair. → story continues in Chapter 3 Live on August 13!
More stories from the past. More water from Eloisa’s eyes. She speaks as if I helped her survive. I only observed. Yet she returns to me again and again. Humans find meaning in strange places. — Jamila
