The River Flows Upstream

Jesse Cabanacan

I fell in love with her at a very young age. It was so intense I chose her over childhood fame, even risked life and limb. Skipping classes was an afternoon delight because that was the only time we could have for each other. My teacher warned me that unless I stopped seeing her, not only was my place in the honor roll at risk, but worse I could end up with a failing grade.

Because I so loved her I did not stop. I almost drowned in her love, literally. I was in third grade and she truly was my first love. But love is not all there is and ours was never meant to be, not in the traditional boy and girl sense anyway. It could never have been, could never be, well, not just for me anyway. There were others, too, I found out later on. I always believed that all along she knew that someday I’d have to leave her for reasons that both of us subtly understood. And somehow I thought that she would always welcome me back with open arms.

It has been at least three decades since I last felt her soothing touch and caressed her then pristine body. I am ashamed, for not even once in my frequent trips back home did I get the same feeling as before. I am ashamed because it just seemed like I cared no more. But I am enraged and ashamed because in the time I was gone she had been, akin to rape, recklessly ravaged and turned into murky waters by the same people she showered with, nay bathed in, love. The only kind she knew, nurturing love.

Yes, she was my first love.

My river. My town. My birthplace. Himanglos River. Barugo. You see, to me, the river is the town is the river is the town. Same concept as the Holy Trinity, faith is your understanding. My Salog Himanglos, yes she is, was, will be, always!

Then six years ago she wrote me a letter. And I’d like to share excerpts of it, which go like this:

“You probably don’t realize how much you’ve taken me for granted. Like others did, and to this day many still do, you left me so as to satisfy your youthful quest and to pursue your dream of the future. Decades later and an ocean apart, you’re not sure you have accomplished either one. Because you can still feel the youth and adventure in your heart and you think, unattainably, that you will always chase the future only with a dream!

Pray tell, when you talk about me, how do you do justice to the place that nurtured you? A place now far removed from where you are. Or am I really? I am sure you can figure it out, but let me help you remember me by. Think with your heart, not with your mind, for there is nothing inconsequential about me, the place where you were born and raised.

In between you kept looking back, thinking that you were always here. All these years you felt as if you never left. In middle age, however, you’ve come to realize how selfish it has been of you to think that way. Selfish, yes, because it really is the other way around. I may not always be in your thoughts but I know I’m always in your heart. You may have left me, but I never left you.

I am this little town of a river. Or this river of a little town. Most never get it; they think I am this river by the town or this town by the river. You know I am both and that truly I am one.

And so let me help you remember me by.

Let your heart usher in the memories of the past, feel the realities of the present, and hope for the future; from early innocence to the reckless abandon of your youth, to the impetuosity and seeming invincibility of your adolescence, feel the joys and agonies of living the simple life of this little, lovely town.

I will help you remember me by.

The day you decided it was time to go, it didn’t matter where to. Because at that cocky stage in your life leaving was more important than to where you were going, as you thought ever so smartly. No different a premise than love conquers all, I suppose. Well, later on you realized you may not have been that smart at all. Because you grew up and learned about direction and a vision for the future. And now you ask yourself, “Have I been to the future?” So tell me, have you? And did you, do you, will you like it?

But let me help you remember me by.

You always had this funny feeling every time you came for a visit. You thought the streets became narrower before your very eyes. Physically impossible, thought you so. Your analytical mind refused to believe it but could not disprove it!

Let your heart nourish your mind and it will help you remember me by.

You can be smarter with your heart and realize that you were looking at what was then from where you are now. No, the streets are not narrower. It only seemed that way because, as you grew older wishing to be wiser, your perspective became wider. Don’t be fooled, the water seems to go downstream but it really flows upstream.

I do not know that you will ever understand but I’m not sure that it matters most. In that sense I can tell you that, yes, you have been to the future in the past and I know you liked it. And you’ll like the next future even better!

In your journey, I was with you always. And will be. For you are forever special to me, and I know I have a very special place in your heart. There is no then, and now is only fleeting.

I may be old now but to be old again is young. Come to me. I am always.”

Since receiving the letter from her I have been compiling a list of things I remember. In the coming months ahead, I will narrate the things I remember about me and especially about her. Memories stored in the deep recesses of my heart about how it was and what it was like growing up in the little town by the Himanglos and the river by the town of Barugo in Leyte province. If your heart so desires, you may also help me remember her by.

That is the very least we can do.