It Doesn’t Take Much to Make Me Happy

We were poor. My father was a jeepney driver turned taxi driver turned rice farmer. My mother was a homemaker. Both didn’t finish high school.

My idea of rich people were my teachers because they finished schooling and those who owned 𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪-𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪 stores because they have income streams. Candy 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘨 from my father were enough to send us to ecstatic jubilation especially if these were M&M’s and Kraft Caramels popularly known as PX goods from the US Naval Base in Subic where he worked as a taxi driver.

I thought we were doing Japanese or Korean dinners when eating at a 𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨 (a low-level dining table). A 𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨 is for poor families who cannot afford table legs and dining chairs. No one in the family took mind or questioned why. We were happy to have food.

Our dining experience got elevated when, finally, the bamboo tree had grown tall and big enough to contribute to the household. A real table with legs. No chairs yet. Instead, we sat on long benches on each side of the length of the table. That was fine-dining #michelinstar happiness for me. 

We were not problem-free. Schooling, of course, was the main concern. Elementary school was no prob. We just had to walk. Walk to school. Walk back home for lunch. Walk back to school. Walk back home. In slippers and worn-out shorts and shirts. For high school and college, our parents had to borrow money from relatives and from my father’s farm owners. Happy to have finished school despite. 

I am grateful to my parents, my siblings, and the good Lord for His provisions. I no longer consider myself poor, material things aside. It doesn’t take much to make this balding guy happy.

I am enjoying this simple coffee and 𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘱 biscuits while writing this post.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes #simplehappiness