The Open Book

It was a sweet sunny day of February 9, 1991 at 2 o’clock in the afternoon when birds are chirping and flowers are blossoming out from their buds. Amidst the calmness and the hush of the air touching the leaves of a narra tree in the front yard, a very loud voice went out from a small nipa house. “It’s a boy”, said by an old woman in a cracking voice. It was like singing in chorus – a tone like a lullaby when the child cried.
It was like a paradigm shift, who would have thought that for nine months of swimming, playing, kicking and eating inside a mother’s womb, a child was born named “Kenneth” by his father after baptism.
I am the youngest in the family. My name was chosen using a random method – and yes, not based in astrology, horoscopes or my father’s favorite basketball player. I could have imagined how happy my parents were when I survived the process and given the opportunity to see the beautiful world.
I believe that I got most of my physical traits from my parents through genetics. I am 5’6 in height and my father too. Aside from the height, I got my skin tone from my mother. People always say that I look like my mother. I believe that not only do I got most of my physical traits from my mother but I got much more. My mother and I have a lot of traits that are similar. We both think alike and have many common interests. Genetic is one way of explaining the similarities, but I think it is more because of my childhood days. My mother took care of me since I was smaller than Christmas tree at home. I can really feel her warm love every time. As they say, mother knows best and undeniably, she was. She’s the best in preparing for my foods, washed my dirty clothes and helped me in singing the ABC song during kindergarten. She meticulously molded my mind and shaped my personality into a well round one.
But sadly, life is too short, and