Corsarius XX

1985. People have written about their visions for the roll of years. Take Orwell’s 1984 for example. Well, they should’ve written something for 1985.

May 1985, to be exact.

It’s the tenth day of the month. Some hospital in Quezon City, the Philippines.

Amidst the tension in the ER, the silent apprehension in the mind of a thirty-something man, and the shrill shrieks of a thirty-something woman, a new Filipino is added to the Swarm.

But God decides to make him stand out from the rest.

He says, “Give this boy some spunk, some funk, some luck. It will be a good brew. Then give him a cool weapon, let’s say, a flaming cutlass. In that way, he can set sail and conquer the world in his own little raiding ways.”

And so —

“Wait, let’s give him one more thing,” God adds. “Give him some angst. Yes, angst. A little angst along the way goes a looong way.”

And so at 8:52 PM, it becomes official.

The Corsarius is born.

*****

I've come a long way.

First, I had a single-digit age. Then I went on to 10, 11, 12. Finally, I became a teenager; this-teen, that-teen. I technically became an adult when I hit 18. Nineteen, that's a transitory age; I barely had enough time to realize that I was 19. I know, I know -- I had one whole year. But a year can zip past you faster than a Maglev train.

Now, the '1' has been replaced by a '2', and the suffix 'teen' casually dropped.

The Corsarius is now 20.

I've come a long way.

Many events have transpired, especially in the last three years -- my stay in college. Those events are so abundant, that they’ve made me forget all those childhood memories.

Yes, the Corsarius is an asshole. He shrugs off the past, to ruthlessly focus on the present.

But God always finds a way to make a person touch base with his past.

An hour ago, I attended mass with my dad at our parish church, Our Lady of Fatima. Being the one-week fiesta of our parish, the song for the Virgin Mary of Fatima was sung by the choir at the mass’ end.

As soon as I heard the first note, my heart started to melt.

That song, the one which I haven’t heard for several years until now, was my perfect childhood song.

When I was in my mid-elementary years, my neighborhood ‘gang’ used to attend the daily summer catechisms at the same church. Before the day’s catechism, we would go around Barangay Don Manuel, picking the best flowers to offer later to the Lady of Fatima (at the catechism’s end). Yes, we were all little boys, carrying around bougainvilleas from street to street, but so great was our respect –- not devotion, that’s for adults old enough to understand its true meaning –- for Mother Mary.

At the day’s end, while we gave Mama Mary our day’s collections, we would sing a hymn for her -- yes, that very same song.

So you didn’t expect the child Corsarius to be this cheesy?

I didn’t, too. That’s why as I sang the hymn, I struggled to keep my voice from breaking.

This day, as I truly become an adult, I find a young Corsarius tucked inside the old -- happy, innocent, and unperturbed by the harsh realities of life.

*****

There. It’s 8:52 PM.

It’s official.

The Corsarius is now twenty.