For our plane seating arrangement going to Manila via CebuPac, I was randomly separated from my officemates. I was assigned at row 2 while they occupied half of the row of 21. I did not mind this setup because our exhaustion made us want to rest than to chat.
In my row, I was seated across an old lady with one vacant seat in between us. I was flipping a magazine when she gently poked me asking for her overhead light to be switched on. She told me that it was Wednesday and she will have her short Novena prayer. I smiled granting her request.
I grabbed a bag of chips, and decided to offer some to the old lady. It was a non GMO and gluten-free chips so I knew a bite would not hurt. She offered me lanzones in exchange, but I told her I was good. Her buds were really craving for sweets so she unwrapped a box of Goldilocks polvoron. Before I even decline, she handed me a polvoron.
Food were good starters for small talks. She shared that she was going to Manila for her eye check-up since she was recovering from her cataract operation. I was curious why she was left with no companion, so I asked her.
She said, ‘’Yung asawa ko palagi kong kasama. Kaso kakamatay lang niya last month, kanser sa pantog. May mga panahon na nami-miss ko, kasi kaming dalawa lang eh. Araw-araw mong nakakasama. Pakiramdam ko nawalan ako ng isang pakpak.’ (My husband has always been my companion. But he died of bladder cancer last month. There were times when I missed him. When he was living, we were together everyday. I felt like I had broken wings when he left.)
It was shattering, and her longing for her husband echoed to me. I uttered, ‘Kaya pala may isang bakanteng upuan dito. Para sakanya ata ‘to.’ (That’s why we have a vacant seat in between us. Maybe this is for him.)
She slid her hand to the armrest and whispered, ‘Siguro nga.’ (Maybe.), then she paused. I did not want to steal that moment from her. It was a silent poetry filled with soul. Witnessing it was enough.
As we were descending, the contrast of the night created perfect view of the city lights of Manila. Our heads were directed to the window. I was extending my neck to get a peek of the view. She observed that I was struggling. She suggested for me to take the seat next to her. I politely refused her. I knew the seat belonged to someone else.
Last night, it was a date. It was theirs.
Jef Queyquep 