when i was younger, i found it an amusing phrase meant to describe the cluelessness of my elders. now that i'm on the other side of the fence, i don't find it as amusing.
i'm not old (no, really! dili ko in denial! hehe). i'm thirty-one, in the prime of my life, contentedly single but not unattached. one of those "attachments" is my seventeen-year-old godson, the current heartache of my life, the one on the other side of this "gap".
the chubby, pink baby i once held in my arms has grown into a tattooed, mustached, tall, lanky, rebellious teenager who gave us the fright of our lives by ending up behind bars. five days of incarceration still was not enough to tame him. i do not know the person he is now. and i'm scared.
we were all sucker-punched by the events. i thought i was current with the times. i thought nothing much can surprise me anymore, that modern technology and a worldly society has pretty much anesthetized me. this seemingly sudden spurt of gangs and gang wars and teenage murders is horrifying.
generation gap. his parents, unsophisticated, humble working-class folks, are ill-equipped to handle this situation. my parents, though willing to help, are also inexperienced since we, their children, have never gone through this type of rebellion. i, the prodigal daughter and empathetic godmother, feel helpless.
i do not know what to do, how to protect him, how to help him overturn his life, how to shield him, how to pry off the barnacles of the bloods and the crips. i don't know. it's so painful that i am clueless.
i'm not old (no, really! dili ko in denial! hehe). i'm thirty-one, in the prime of my life, contentedly single but not unattached. one of those "attachments" is my seventeen-year-old godson, the current heartache of my life, the one on the other side of this "gap".
the chubby, pink baby i once held in my arms has grown into a tattooed, mustached, tall, lanky, rebellious teenager who gave us the fright of our lives by ending up behind bars. five days of incarceration still was not enough to tame him. i do not know the person he is now. and i'm scared.
we were all sucker-punched by the events. i thought i was current with the times. i thought nothing much can surprise me anymore, that modern technology and a worldly society has pretty much anesthetized me. this seemingly sudden spurt of gangs and gang wars and teenage murders is horrifying.
generation gap. his parents, unsophisticated, humble working-class folks, are ill-equipped to handle this situation. my parents, though willing to help, are also inexperienced since we, their children, have never gone through this type of rebellion. i, the prodigal daughter and empathetic godmother, feel helpless.
i do not know what to do, how to protect him, how to help him overturn his life, how to shield him, how to pry off the barnacles of the bloods and the crips. i don't know. it's so painful that i am clueless.
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