When I said "things happen for a reason", I meant that there is really no such thing as coincidence. I'd rather believe that there is something or someone stronger and more powerful than we could imagine like a force or the universe conspiring for a condition to set before our eyes.
It was last Saturday night, or was it Sunday dawn when I encountered someone from high school. In spite of intoxication, we were able to manage a serious conversation like a brief time travel to our common past, our high school life. He was my batch mate who used to copy my notes and even answers during quizzes. He admitted that he couldn't forget about it.
I learned that he is already a policeman, trying to make ends meet after his live-in partner left him for London, with their son whom his mother is taking charge now. He said the girl hasn't spared anything not even for the kid. He barely can survive with P4,000 a month, a salary too small for an SPO1, but it's only what is left for him after all loan deductions. Yes, he had acquired loans when he was still living with the girl to capitalize a lending business only to end up bankrupt.
He was a pathetic man, I sympathized him. But, however depressingly he related his story to me, I can see hope in his eyes, in his voice. He asked me if I could still remember the bookmark I gave him during high school.
I recalled I used to make bookmarks painted with pictures using watercolor representing a saying or slogan I wrote on it. The one I gave him, he recalled, says "Don't put all your apples in one basket."
It's only that moment that I was able to recall who I was before. That I was this intelligent girl, with lots of friends, and sweet enough to give them bookmarks. And, I got these philosophies in life I shared to them written on those pretty little handcrafts.
He said, he followed what I wrote on the bookmark, to never put all his hopes in one pursuit. That's why he continues to struggle despite the trials and defeats.
Going back to the core of this, meeting him that night was not a coincidence after all. It was supposed to happen in time, that very moment. He became an instrument to remind me of who I was, and how I used to hold on to some philosophies that I should be using for myself these times.
He was a message. God knows what I've been going through. Each day is a chance for me to continue struggling or to give up the person I chose to love. Maybe, God is telling me to remind myself of the apples. Maybe, the message is that I will not spend all my present moments dedicating my thoughts to this one person, whom I don't know if he really cares for me; I don't know if he also thinks of me especially at times when we're not together, not even getting any message from him.
After that brief moment with my long lost batch mate, I figured how many apples I still have. And, I've been thinking to gather more baskets for them.
