Plucking Leafs from My Tree of Memories Ch.6
|I with my mother in her early 20s; in the early 70s, in Mati, Davao, Philippines. I was about three years old.|
A Hole on the Floor
I cannot longer recall vivid moments from the time, circa 1974, when my family spent a summer vacation on Grandfather's land in Mati, Davao, except for this enduring memory:
The family went somewhere, perhaps to the market in the city, and left me in the care of my yaya ('nanny'). Thinking I was safely asleep, the nanny went out, leaving me alone inside the nipa house, the bamboo floor of which had a hole big enough for a child to fall into...down to the ground full of stones; the distance from the floor to the ground was about four feet.
As you might have already anticipated, yes, as I awoke, realizing I was alone, I had crept towards the hole; and what can you expect from a three-year-old? I slipped into the hole! Luckily, I was able to grasp tightly onto the edges of the hole. If not for my presence of mind or, should I say, survival instincts, I could have been a paralytic or, worse, dead and gone a long time ago.
According to my mother, as they arrived back she heard my crying; seeing the nanny outside the house, she remembered the hole on the floor and sensed where I was. She said her blood rushed to her head, so to speak, as she ran to my rescue.
What happened to the nanny? I did not bother to ask. Ha-ha-ha! But knowing my mother, I'm sure she might have just reprimanded the poor girl.