Paeng Ferrer
My basil plant shrivels. I gaze outside the window of the apartment I’m renting. No vegetation grows. It is barren.
Emerging Adulthood
Arthur is the first in our barkada to get married. He now has a mistress. He can use her as an excuse every time we hold a get-together. “The Mrs. awaits!” he would say. He does not wander anymore. He has settled down.
It made me reflect when it would be my turn to settle down. It is said that one of my generation’s trait is to delay marriage. There is nothing wrong with this, according to Jeffrey Arnett. He is the author of the book “Emerging Adulthood: The Winding Road from Late Teens through the Twenties”. He is a psychologist. He calls my era the age of Emerging Adulthood. We are the type who hesitates taking on responsibility. Examples of these are in the aspects of looking for permanent work, extending studies, and, as mentioned above, marriage.
Settling Down
They said that one way to measure one’s readiness to marry and to build a family is to watch over a plant. I try my hand at planting an herb. If it propagates, I am equipped for marriage.
I purchased a sack of gardening soil and five flower pots. I transported it home via the public commute. I took a jeep. I must have looked funny because of the bulk of the items I carried. The other passengers tried their best to hide their laughter. Two of the jars broke. “This is not a good sign,” I told myself. However, I still proceeded with the plan. I sowed two cuttings: a basil and a chilli plant. I read books on how to care and grow the said seedlings. I printed webpages from my internet research. Basil and chillies only grow in sunny areas. You only water it thrice a week. In case it catches an illness, like aphids, you can use a drug or organic cures. Yes, I also named my plants.
I was delighted when the shrubs flourished. The cuttings were exceptionally green. The leaves’ aroma was magnificent. The basil grew flowers. Meanwhile, the chilli bore fruit. However, little brown spots appeared on the branches of the vegetation. I didn’t pay attention to it. I continued watering and taking care of the plants. Sometimes, I talk to it. I cut the flowers. I also picked the chillies. This is so the plants would concentrate on growing more leaves.
“When soaked too much, plants burn up. Yes, it does,” said my neighbor who is a gardener. One of his eyes has a cataract. His voice was high pitched but coarse. You would think he had a vicious past experience when he talks. He was carrying a machete. I smiled. He ignored it. He stared at the distance. He walked away and never looked back. I continued watering the plants.
What he didn’t know was that I didn’t water the plants excessively. In fact, I sometimes failed to sprinkle it. I couldn’t remember if I watered it last Tuesday. Do I soak it now that it’s Wednesday? What if it drowns? Who will water it when I’m not at home? Could I ask my neighbor to do it? It became very confusing. Perhaps, like the average couple, my plants and I had disagreements, confusion, and complex problems.
Thus, the time came when the brown spots from the branches spread. The leaves slumped. The pleasant odor vanished. The budding shoots stopped emerging. The whole plant wilted. I had to accept the wretched news that the basil and the chilli withered. The only things left were the empty pots, garden soil, and the pesticides.
You ask why? Perhaps my gardener neighbor was right that I drenched it too much. Maybe I shouldn’t have used a pesticide. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked the flowers and the chillies. Or maybe I shouldn’t have started the gardening project to begin with. However, I deem that the primary reason is that because I abandoned the shrubs during the weekends. Then I realized why getting married and building a family is called settling down. One needs to learn to stay put.
 |
| A basil plant slowly withers |
Genuine Adulthood
I move back and forth between two houses. I work in Laguna. So I stay in an apartment for rent from Mondays to Fridays. However, I visit my mom every weekend. She lives in Quezon City. This is one of the primary traits of Arnett’s theory. He argues that emerging adults are characterized by instability. Literally, we frequently relocate to different areas. Figuratively, we keep revising our life plans many times. In return, however, we gain a stronger foundation for adulthood. We achieve a better understanding of ourselves.
When my plants died is also the time when I decided to get a bulky backpack. It’s almost like a mountain climbing backpack. Why a clunky bag? Mainly because I do not have a car. I don’t own a vehicle. In other words, a car is a mere briefcase for me. It is just a container – a container for my netbook, wallet, underwear, cellphone, toothbrush, scratch papers, socks, ID’s, pencil case, alcogel, umbrella, extra shirts, hair gel, etc. I am a turtle that drags its whole house.
“How’s the married life?” I ask Arthur. “Nothing’s changed,” he shrugs. Perhaps, it is true that things remain the same in his marriage. Or perhaps, he was annoyed by my intrusive query. Nevertheless, it still made me ask myself, “Is there really a genuine adulthood?”
Therefore, in the event that I acquire the right amount to purchase a vehicle, it doesn’t cost a centavo to fantasize, I would acquire a car with an enormous backpack. Pardon, you ask me? I meant a van or a pickup truck. If in case I cannot teach myself to stay put, I will take with me my plants. I will take with me my pet dog, like the e-heads song. ***
 |
| My Beloved Backpack. Haha! |
