Last night I had tickets to a ballet show in USI (Universidad de sta. Isabel). It wasn’t so much the ballet show that is the subject of this blog (I guess I’d write about that on a separate blog) but the experience of being back to my elementary alma matter.
Before when I was still there it was named Colegio de Sta. Isabel. And it looked different. And was arranged different.
But on that quick round I made of the school before I entered the auditorium to watch the ballet show, I noticed that although the buildings changed and the designation of the rooms changed, memories of my past remained – forever etched in each room, in each pavement, in each bench. On that quick round I felt like I was seeing flashbacks of my elementary life – fitting myself under the gigantic statue of Jesus in the fishpond – of which now I’m sure I won’t fit; the clinic room where I used to have my weight and height regularly measured; the canteen where I rarely buy anything due to the huge crowd during breaktime (I always brought my own snacks); the volleyball court where we played “langit lupa” back in grade 1 and where I accidentally injured my knee playing; the St. Vincent de Paul building which contained most of my classrooms – although I only passed through the first floor corridors I could see myself in the third floor where my rooms were located and looking down at the people passing by or looking at the green paranympus and enjoying the view. Passing through that building, I could almost hear the ring of the bell from the library signaling the change of classes.
Even looking at the high school classrooms, of which I never really had any classes, memories still came flooding. I was a very active student then and I must say that before I completely left CSI, that before it became USI and had more secure entrance policies, I had already formed memories in all its nooks and crannies. Large school as it may be, there are very few places which would have no memories for me.
Even with the college department which seems highly unlikely for me to form associations with, I still had quite a number of memories tucked in. One of them is connected with my first boyfriend who was an Isabelino and I cannot deny that he was part of my Colegio (I prefer to use the name I got used to) memories – much as I wanted to. But I was surprised that the memory didn’t hurt or embarrassed me.
Even as I am writing this now, memories upon memories kept flooding back to my mind. I can hardly keep up with the flow nor do I think I would really make the effort to write them all down. Not because I don’t want too but simply because I couldn’t. Words alone wouldn’t justify the memories.
The feeling though is like having cool water poured on your face during a hot day or inhaling a fresh breeze on a really humid afternoon.
Simply put, it is refreshing having these memories come back to me all of a sudden.
I do not deny though that my elementary years have not been all blissful. There were bumps and hardships as well – friends and enemies made and lost. However it seems that no matter how many bad things happened to me back then, the good ones over shone them that even if I recall these bad memories I would still find them good.
I remember a line in Kung Fu Panda that goes like this: “There is no good or bad news. There is only news.” I guess the same can be said with memories, especially those made almost a decade ago. “There are no good or bad memories. There are only memories.”
Sigh. How I wish I could gain access once more to my alma matter. Access during the day when sunlight would bath the school and time won’t be rushed. It’s ok if no one is present and the school seems like a ghost town. That would actually be perfect for then the ghosts of my memories would be free to fill the place and make me nostalgic.
Now those are the ghosts I can’t wait to see.