After attending an emotionally tiring open house/tripping somewhere in Quezon Ave., I find my fear being realized in my dreams.
I can no longer recall the details but my mom and I were on another verbal battle. This time, it’s no longer about my failure to inform her my whereabouts or the unbearable mess of my bedroom. She confronted me about my big plans of moving out. I didn’t know how she found out since I kept the brochures I have gathered somewhere safe but I didn’t bother to deny either.
See, I intend to tell her about it. But it’s too early to do so. I felt the need to declare it to both of my parents. Dad’s going home around third week of February. Such a huge plan calls for a perfect delivery, something that would make them feel I’m truly grown up. That I have my own needs to take care of, I have considered the extent of cost-cutting I’d required to do and, as a finisher, I am down to the exciting part of selecting among my array of options. No room for rebuttals, indeed.
The first time I expressed my desire for an exodus, my dad reacted, "Sige, pag-uusapan namin ‘yan ng Mama mo," Come on. I am too old to ask for their permission!