Letter To An Uncle

Tio,

It’s 10:00 P.M., and I’m still in the office.

My to-do list for tomorrow is seven pages long. Today, it was 6 pages long, and I was able to accomplish everything on that list. I have to write two speeches for my bosses tonight, then I have to transcribe three long interviews for the book that I’m writing about Dr. Custodio. I was lucky enough to get to sit down to lunch (vegetables and fish) at two p.m., but I haven’t eaten since. Earlier this afternoon, we shipped out the following to NBS Batangas: four very large boxes full of children’s books (our mobile library thus far), 25 boxes of Salad Dix and Chupachups, the give-aways that we are distributing to the kids during our launch, 6 banners and 356 pieces of rubber mats. On the day itself, we will bring INK's 10 framed artworks (original children’s book illustrations priced at about 5000-8000T each) that we will be exhibiting at the host school.

We keep track of our lives by using numbers. How does mine add up? It seems like a very full one, doesn’t it? And it is. I know it is. I am slowly learning how to appreciate everything in my life – my exhaustion, my never-ending list of projects, my ability to get up after I fall, my tenacity and perseverance, the people who need me, my friends, my family.

I intend to go white-water rafting in Cagayan De Oro before the year ends. Care to join me when you come here? It’ll be fun. You, me and Bill might break a bone or two, or drown, but then again, the best things in life usually bring us closer to death.

Speaking of which, I pledged I’d climb a mountain once a month, every month next year for my brother. God, I shall ask Him, I will climb this mountain, I will cut my feet, I will be covered in mud, I will cry because my knees will shake and my legs will cramp up, and I will know what it means to die a little at the end of it, but I shall offer my suffering to you, if only you help Louis.

Children, I am learning, constitute the fabric of our purest consciousness.