I wish I kept a book containing details, stories and conversations with and about all the people that have left a lasting impression on me. There are so many things I wish I could remember. Yesterday, we drove to Baguio for the first time in months and as we were mindlessly wandering around SM I came across this person I haven't seen since I was a child, Tito Pepper; a cool, former Sunday school teacher who grew his hair out and only chopped it short on his birthday. What makes this encounter somewhat remarkable for me is he's been crossing my mind a lot these past few weeks, which is strange because there's nothing at all that could be reminding me of him. I was incessantly visited by thoughts of him- I kept wondering how he was doing, even to the point of trying to search for him on Facebook. Nothing. Something tiny was nagging at me- these thoughts, why were they there? 

Yesterday, when I saw him, of course I was surprised at the timeliness of it all. He looked older, but almost quite the same- tall, wearing a cap and long, curly hair. I introduced myself and I wasn't certain if he could remember or recognize me at first, but when lowered his voice and I saw the smooth transition of his face from a calm expression to an even more serious mask when he asked about my dad I knew for sure that he could remember who I was. We talked about church and I told him I was still searching, to which he replied, "Only those who truly seek will find." 

Right then I felt this immense sadness spreading inside of me, like a seed that's been planted a long time ago that's always been there except I focus on other things most of the time that I hardly notice, until all it takes is something small, like a person, a memory, or several words to magnify the sadness; the gap that's already there, and I don't know what to do about it. 

We are all holding our breaths- my mother is crossing her fingers, A- is searching for mine in-between his, and I am waiting. All we have is time but we never seem to have enough of it.