Parallel Lines

I remember all of it vividly, 16 years ago. I remember sunlight pouring from the large window panes into the hallways, bathing you like an anointed saint. Your hair was as dark as your eyes—sleepy, drifting, distant. Maybe it was the dramatic way everything fell into place at that moment, but it strikingly lingered in my memory even as I write this recollection to you. It was around fifteen minutes past seven in the morning, and you were entering your class in a line: 4th grade, section 4. My classroom was just a floor below yours. I do admit I seldom find myself wandering into different areas of the campus other than that of my class, but I had...other commitments to attend to—urgently, if I were to be honest. My eyes wandered towards the faculty office at the end of the corridor. I was supposed to submit a late project before the flag ceremony. You see, the highlights of my 4th grade were never about academic validation. It was all about running around the playground after lunchbreak, chasing my classmates and getting drenched in sweat and the afternoon sun. I was happy that way—and all of that was put into danger when my teacher suddenly threatened to ban all of us from the playground if we did not take our studies seriously (because honestly, our class was the worst performing in our year level). After such threats were made, I took them personally. After all, I was the instigator of all our afternoon games. I cannot lose the power I held in my own little world. I had to keep the balance. "I will never let you take that playground from me," I whispered. I held on to my late project and marched towards the faculty room. Of course, together with my classmates and partners in crime, we were able to keep our playground and our lunch break mischiefs. Little did I know, such motivation was so strong that I was oblivious to the fact that I was slowly rising in the ranks of academic achievers. Those kinds of things did not matter to a child, but it did matter to everyone around them: their teachers, their parents. This sudden shift in my life, I considered, was what I called, "Point A." So many things were born from this point in time, and one of those things was our "Parallel Lines"—how a captivating young boy would haunt every page and every chapter of my being in the years to come, and how we would find ourselves fighting the destiny laid before us. This is the story of how our lives never intersected, but always co-existed.