A Public Apology

Ian, darling –

I did not want to break my promise.

I know I should be in Dumaguete right now. I know I’d sworn time and again that I would come to see you. I have dreamt for two long years of swimming with the dolphins with you and my fellow Purple Patchers in Bais. But sometimes life conspires against our best laid plans: the storm came, work continues to pile up, boys come and go, then come again (hee), we have to tighten our belts, then one finds that there are no more resources (time and money) left for that which was planned many months in advance.

Know that I think about Dumaguete and our summer of love every single day. Someone mentions the name of your town and I am back there again, eating shrimp tempura by the sea wall, drinking under the full moon one windy night, on the eve of Nick Joaquin’s passing, watching the sun sink down the horizon, engulfed by so many memories.

I miss you more than you know: I want to tell you about so many things. I want to lean on your shoulder and cry a little about the boys who have disappointed me (and the ones who still love me, strangely enough). I want to laugh again, with you, to have happiness fill every pore of my body, to breathe and love and live with such abandon (the likes of which I have not felt in a very long time).

I will return someday, soon.

God knows, I need to.

In the meantime, please forgive me: I did not mean to break your heart.