The youngest feels the emptiness, or the prospect of one on Christmas Day 2014.

ORDINARY TEACHER'S NOTES. 25 DEC 2014. THURS. N3.
The youngest feels the emptiness, or the prospect of one on Christmas Day 2014. 

[For Leah Antonio Agcaoili, Ie Agcaoili, Cams Agcaoili, and Nasudi Francine Agcaoili. Here is Merry Christmas to ya ol!] 

WITH her sister gone to the Philippines to link up arms again with friends and family and do some freelance graphic arts work there, and with an elder brother, our first-born, leaving the coop soon and figuring out what is in store for him in the US Mainland, today, at Christmas Day in Honolulu, the youngest went on a sentimental mood.

She says she is going to miss her brother. 

She says she misses her older sister. 

She says she is going to be left alone in the household, and no one--not any one--to fight with. 

She will miss the sibling fights, the sibling rivalries, and the sibling shouting matches so natural for siblings, but so natural for them to find ways to make peace right after, after the verbal EIDs have died down, and after the tsunami of unsibling-like language has ebbed to find their quiet in that ocean of emotions we call sibling love. 

"I shall be by myself. And alone," she wails. 

"We are here for you, sweetie," her mother tells her.

"I shall have no one to fight with," she wails louder.

"I am around, and we shall fight everyday, do not worry," her mother tells her, and she wails some more while I hold the iPhone and video-documenting all that is happening. 

"I am missing my sister. She tells me things, good stuff, and I do not listen to her. Soon she will be gone too!" 

"No worry, we are," her mother reminds her.

"For how long yet?" she asks, her wailing unstoppable and becoming less subdued, tears profusely falling on her tanned cheeks. 

"Eight years more," her mother tells her. "Four years in high school and four years in college. And each day in college, you will be with your father. Because he will drive you to school. And he will bring you back home. Everyday!" 

"Waaaaaah," she wails louder. 

Ah, Christmas Day 2014.