I was too stubborn. My dad had specifically told me not to hold anything while I swing. But when you have a 6 year old kid in a messy yard without any parental supervision nearby, what do you get? Well, if the kid was well-behaved then maybe the only loss you would suffer from is a few coins for a snack to reward him. But if the child was as curious as I was, then I bet you’d suffer from major disasters.

 We lived in a compound in Canlubang, Calamba for almost half a year. The neighbourhood looked like multiple houses squished together to make the ultimate house sandwich. The roads were a bit too narrow for raging vehicles passing by and busy people wandering about. A couple of blocks away, you’d find a school for elementary kids called Mary Belle Montessori School Annex. That’s why you’d see a bunch of kids playing in the streets wherever you’d look.

 I didn’t have that much friends so I spent most of my time inside the borders of our yard. I was always jealous of the other kids playing outside, from the muddy puddles when it’s raining to the sunny afternoons at slides. My dad noticed this and so he created my own personal playground in our yard. He placed a swing about a meter away from our unused second door and a seesaw by the mango tree in front of our house.

 One day, my dad was talking with some of our neighbours outside. It was a Thursday. It was getting pretty boring. There was no internet (it was 2006), I wasn’t allowed to use our computer at that age (not that I even knew how to use one) and my mom was using her cell phone inside (the one with the funny snake games). I had to do something to spice things up, I remember thinking. Looking around, I recall spotting our broken bike, some kittens in a carton box, and my dad’s technical tools used for fixing stuff and tinkering with broken equipment from the junkshop. Then I saw the steel curtain rods lying down by the yard in different lengths. Curiously, I took the shortest one, maybe less than a meter long.

 I was a very creative child, with a vivid gift for imagination. Holding the rod, I tried to feel like Moses parting the red sea with his staff, the fairy godmother in Cinderella with her bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, a black belt in karate with the high kicks and the heeyaaaaahs. And then I thought, “I wanna fly. I’d be Superman or Peter Pan or maybe even Mary Poppins.” And with that, I hopped on the swing facing the door, rod in hand, about to make one of the stupidest decisions in my life. In one, two, three, one, two, three, swing, the rod jabbed the door and went straight back to my left eye. I screamed. I was proud of the fact that I didn’t cry (or maybe the tears just couldn’t come out because of the injury). My dad came rushing inside the yard and I ran to meet him in a frightened and guilty embrace, screaming and apologizing. Everything was a blur after that. Figuratively. And literally. For a long time.

 What I do remember is that I had an eye patch for a week (“Arrrrrrgh. You’re a pirate,” my older brother teased.).We couldn’t find any hospital that could accommodate us due to the lack of ophthalmologists in Calamba and so we were referred to St. Luke’s Medical Center in Quezon where I was admitted for about 3 months.

 It turned out that my cornea was bent and ripped that I had to undergo surgery where they would sew it back to my eye (“Bloody, gore and gross,” my older sister said.). My mother was reluctant to agree to the operation at first but did anyway, realizing we didn’t have any other options than that or me going blind.

 Fortunately, it was successful. But from then on until now I have to wear glasses if I want to make the world look clearer. I have to change my lens from time to time to adjust to my depleting vision. It’s interesting to see the world without glasses however, like looking at a blotted oil-painted canvas. Sometimes I take my glasses off to escape from reality and to pretend like I’m still in 2006. But then I get dizzy afterwards so I have to put my glasses back on.

 I guess I didn’t really understand the weight of the situation at the time. But looking back, I couldn’t imagine how terrible my parents must have had felt. We had enough troubles already, financially and a few other family issues. But I don’t remember them scolding me even once for what I did. I remember my mom buying me expensive yema from the hospital’s cafeteria whenever she noticed that I wanted to cry. My dad always brought grapes whenever I asked. I also remember their friends visiting and leaving gifts behind. Sure, I felt guilty but they didn’t make me want to feel worse. Up to this day, my parents put all their gratitude to God and our spirituality for helping us get through this difficulty. But for me, I’m thankful for them the most.

 If I could turn back the time however, I don’t think I’d change anything. We’ve all learned a lot from that experience and it made me who I am today.  Even my father keeps getting teary-eyed whenever he tells the story during special occasions.  I was able to overcome other challenges because of that. I can’t even imagine myself without glasses anymore. Of course, it meant buying new frames or lenses every two years or so. But I’m thankful that I began to see the world differently. Again, figuratively. And literally. I’d be lying if I said that I stopped doing stupid things after that but I can definitely say that I’m trying my best so as not to let my actions affect others negatively. I guess I’ve learned the importance of thinking twice before doing anything.  

 So, what do you get when you have a curious 6-year old kid in a messy yard with a rod and a swing without any parental supervision nearby? Possible answers include: blurry vision, an eye patch, glasses, an empty bank account and a pocketful of lessons and stories you could share and laugh at 12 years later – basically, trouble.