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The Day I Said Goodbye to My Childhood River

Tin Mariano
ILLUMINATION
Published in
3 min readNov 6, 2022

I mourn the loss of a tomorrow where I can bring my future children to the river below me.

Photo by Haley Phelps on Unsplash

I wish I could tell you all about the lands of my childhood, how I carved my first name on a mango trunk, how I swam in the river, often scared and threatened by that large bamboo grove. For me, the grove was a portal with a mystic being as its sentry. My active child’s mind imagined spirits nestling inside the shadowed pockets, silently checking whether I am fit to swim their river. Thus, that river and the bamboo grove were constant features in my childhood nightmares.

The river of my childhood connects to the mother of all rivers. In my memory, the banks were wide and steep. Only select spots were fit for children. One of those spots happened to be guarded by that bamboo grove. On the left side of the grove, cassava reeds stood, completing a sentry of natural fences that extend to the foot of a nearby bridge. The right side was unfenced, sloping, and steeper than the left.

To safely reach the riverbank, you have to enter the bamboo grove. You have to walk a short and gently inclined dirt path. You have to say “tabi, apo” when you pass. The opening brings you to a narrow strip of grassy land and a couple of water-polished limestones. We, the children, used those limestones as our mini jumping pads.

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ILLUMINATION
ILLUMINATION

Published in ILLUMINATION

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Tin Mariano
Tin Mariano

Written by Tin Mariano

International work experience, the expat life, and everything in between

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