It was a strange story of how love was broken even before it was formed. Mr. Reteche knew but he never suggested a gist to Zita --- a fine, fresh and soon-to-be-a-lady native of Anayat. He came from the city where he was previously with another Zita, and only assumptions were given for the reason why he left and what happened to them. Days, weeks and months have passed, Francisco Reteche remained a mysterious man and a teacher to where Zita of Anayat was studying. He was labeled so because of a letter enclosed in a blue enveloped that arrived two to three times every month --- with a gold design in the upper left hand corner --- and no one knew where or to whom it came from. Don Eliodoro, Zita's father, appointed Mr. Reteche to teach Zita how to be a lady for in no time, she will finally bloom to a perfect rose and will soon find her way in the city.
A sudden emotion, bliss and romance was what Zita felt, but little did she knew that it was no more than that for Mr. Reteche. One night, the same blue envelope came for Mr. Reteche. He tore the letter and instantly put it to pieces once again. Zita rebelliously asked why have he tore it up if he will put it together again and he replied that someday, she too will do it and by that time, she would have understood. Unexpected minutes, hours and days passed, a stranger from the city came and looked for Mr. Reteche. Zita, then knew by the tone of their voice while she intently listened through the opening in the door that something will happen. The following day, she dressed herself in a usual Spanish dress, eyebrows penciled, lips are colored red and cheeks are with rouge.
She waited, paced, waited... waited. Turong came in and brought a letter to her from Mr. Reteche. She ran in an instant to the window, leaned and saw the shadow of a man he loved slowly... quickly fading. She had not noticed her hands were already tearing the letter Turong brought, and when she did, she put it back once again --- the same thing Mr. Reteche did with the blue-enveloped letter. She knew, and now she have understood.
A sudden emotion, bliss and romance was what Zita felt, but little did she knew that it was no more than that for Mr. Reteche. One night, the same blue envelope came for Mr. Reteche. He tore the letter and instantly put it to pieces once again. Zita rebelliously asked why have he tore it up if he will put it together again and he replied that someday, she too will do it and by that time, she would have understood. Unexpected minutes, hours and days passed, a stranger from the city came and looked for Mr. Reteche. Zita, then knew by the tone of their voice while she intently listened through the opening in the door that something will happen. The following day, she dressed herself in a usual Spanish dress, eyebrows penciled, lips are colored red and cheeks are with rouge.
She waited, paced, waited... waited. Turong came in and brought a letter to her from Mr. Reteche. She ran in an instant to the window, leaned and saw the shadow of a man he loved slowly... quickly fading. She had not noticed her hands were already tearing the letter Turong brought, and when she did, she put it back once again --- the same thing Mr. Reteche did with the blue-enveloped letter. She knew, and now she have understood.
It was a strange story of how love was broken even before it was formed. It ended as fast as it started; an unhappy ending, a disappointment. I never knew how hard it would be for Zita to love a person who never loved you back. It must be really painful, or must it feel like you're screaming at the top of your lungs and nobody hears you. I never knew for I have never felt a strong emotion like this before, and reading this story made me want to back out. It was sad. It was painful. And the more, you never knew what happened next. Did Reteche came back to his Zita? Did Zita pursued her father to go earlier to the city? We never know. The story is a mixture of bliss, mystery, curiosity, excitement and sorrow. One needs to be both vulnerable and invulnerable for ideas to penetrate both mind and heart.
True, love should be something to be treasured and cherished, but we must not forget the pain and sacrifices that hide between these lines. Through everything I have read and learned, I have known that no matter how painful love could be, I am the only one capable of doing things I should and must do. There are choices: we can go forward and chase this love; stay and mourn forever; focus our attention to things other than that; or stand up, head held high and remind ourselves that life does not end when we lose someone. It ends when we think it is but it can always start if we want to. Because the world does not stop just because you feel so.
A reflective journal intended to be passed tomorrow (March 14, 2011; Monday) for our English class. The contents of this post are original.
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