We grew up calling him “Ama”. But ma-urat as I am, I asked my father how he wants to be called and he gamely said, “Popsy!”
Popsy built us a house–half of which is made out of bamboo. The wall panels, the floorings, the awnings, the windows and window panes were tediously nailed and hammered into place and meticulously done.
Well, Popsy had some help with the felling, sizing ang measurements, but the nitty-gritties were all his.
No, Popsy does not have those do-it-all carpentry tools. His gadgets are as worn as Popsy’s veined hands. His hammer’s handle looked like it was hammered in place. No clamps, pliers or scredrivers were free from rusts. His meter spool was not spooling. The saw has seen better days. The axe, don’t ask, had lost its sharpness and has been sharpened many times. Yet, every thing my father owned has and still serve their purpose–
Every weekend, I sleep and wake on a bed the frame of which was once my parent’s wooden matrimonial bed. The headboard is now made out of carved lumber and the base, of bamboo.
Morning sunshine and cool breeze freely stream in my room every weekend morning sending me in deepest sleep.
Our meals are shared on a dining table that Popsy also made. it’s a rectangular wooden dining table with welded steel bars as legs. If it can talk, surely, it will join us as we discuss whatever things.
Popsy seldom goes to a hardware store, and methinks it’s because of nostalgic sentiments because we had a construction store eons ago.
My father, who wants to be called “Popsy”, is not as strong as he once were. Hating idle time though, he works relentlessly. If he’s not IN the house adding bamboo slabs at the still unfinished 2nd deck of our home sweet home, he’s just outside looking after his fighting cocks (though he rarely goes to the sabungan), or planting/harvesting tomatoes, eggplants, sili, banana, calamansi, etc. in our backyard.
That’s why I gave him as a Father’s Day gift the FPJ DVD Collection which, to my relief, was on sale in Astrovision. Else, Popsy would never stay put. Especially when our home sweet home is always a work in progress.
Our house will never make it to the pages of a home magazine, but for me, it is the most luxurious place there is. It is the only place where my whole being is most at “peace”, and peace and comfort, you see, is my greatest luxury.
And in a month or two, oh, I bet Popsy’s mango trees shall be all golden! Sweet home sweet!