A letter of apology

To my future baby, I am writing to tell you I’m sorry.

I didn’t want to have you. 

Well I did, but just a few days ago, I was tuned in on this documentary and something hit me really hard. It got me feeling scared. I was so scared honey, I wondered if bringing you into this world would be a good idea, because right that very moment, I was convinced it’s absolutely not.

What kind of soul do I have for not wanting an angel from God? A lost soul, maybe? Because that’s the kind I have right now. I have dreamt of you even when I was little. I am just terrified that the world you’ll see is only a thin, cold, stale slice of bread when it used to be big, plenty and warm.

You see, your mama is very much into documentaries. It’s like a magnifying glass that allows you to see things on closer inspection. What’s funny is, I didn’t even appreciate social studies back in my schooling years. Somehow, it wedged a place in my heart and has crept on me as I grew older. I have seen things I can’t unsee no matter how I try; parts of the history teachings I didn’t pay attention to until that period repeated itself in front of my indisposed eyes. 

Week after week, wars breaking out here and there flooded the news. Effects of the stubborn global warming are no longer irregular items to the ears and eyes of the public. To some, these serve as warnings, to most: plain news and possible topic of gossip. Believe me, honey, I tried to act on it, I just didn’t have the guts to stand up for it. Mama is not proud of this; I hope you will forgive me for what I didn’t do…

 (Photos taken in Syria, these things are happening as I write)

It was so far away, but mama can hear some gunshots sometimes. I can see the trembling kids run feebly through the rubbles on hard times. I can taste the bitterness of salty tears pouring down the hollow cheeks of people who refused to be part of this one, big annihilation scheme. I can feel the fear buried deep inside the hearts of reluctant men forced to slay whoever poses as threats to their lives. I do honey, but sadly I am just an audience, all sorts of feelings I get when I think is nothing compared to what the people in the actual game feel. Things I will die for just for you to be spared from experiencing, let alone feeling.

I have seen you also, during those bright days when I become unreachable to the world. I have seen you so tiny and soft, pink and fragile, a part of myself, and a part of someone I deeply love. I can see joy in your father’s eyes as you tug his sleeve with your little scrawny hand.  I have seen you turn things around; I have seen you change the world for me, for us.

If only I can change the world for you, too. But, I can’t, I can’t do it alone.

You see mama wanted to make a change, I have tried to help the world age, for you to still see the things my eyes have laid on, for you to still experience what nature has been generously giving, for you to enjoy life being plain and simple as it was. But I’m afraid, no –terrified, that if you’re reading this it’s already too late.

A 33° c temperature ten years ago is different from the same 33° c temperature nowadays. I don’t have technical knowledge about these things but I know the feeling of basking under the sun when I was little. I remember dreading your grandmother’s scolding when I stay out while the sun is up and proud. Now I fear going out and it’s the kind of fear that doesn’t include your grandmother’s rage anymore. It’s because the heat is simply unbearable.

And how can I tell you this honey, I don’t know how without guilt crawling under my skin... We took the world and lived in it as if everything is at our disposal. We have thought about you, too. But maybe we’re not wise or caring enough to think while we devour everything we thought is everlasting. 

According to the documentary, if nothing changes with the way we consume things; by 2025 our supply of potable water is already a major problem, at least here in the Philippines. What year is it now? This crisis has already tried Sao Paolo, Brazil earlier this first quarter - A land known for its abundance of natural riches. Listen, Mama used to hear that our country was just as gifted when it comes to natural sources, too. I don’t see much of them now, I feel no scarcity but I haven’t heard the word “lavishness” of anything natural and valuable for quite a while now. I wonder what it’s like in your time.

Are there still strong trees to climb on? Or can you breathe clean air? (I can’t use fresh anymore; it’s a luxury right now) Will you be able to enjoy the beach on summer? Will you be able to see a cloudy sky? Will you thank Mama for bringing you out? Will you be able to survive... 

If you are reading this, you are probably surviving, and I hope, you are well and healthy. I hope things have changed, for the better and I hope it won’t stop turning for what’s good. 

I am sorry, sincerely, for not thinking about you or the Earth –our only home in this vast, intimidating universe. I am sorry if I have thought of not having you at all. I want you, I love you and I think some people will, too. I will bring you out in this world as a gift to mankind; I will bring you to tell everyone I have hope that we can still do something out of selfishness. I want you, and I know that you’ll be wiser and stronger. I will bring you here, because you deserve this life as much as we all do. 

I will have you, because I love you.

And to the future kids: We’re sorry, I hope that you’ll find it in your heart - the forgiveness we didn’t deserved so much to have. We have faith in you, saving our home takes more than just a generation, but efforts count big. We have tried and we still try, if others will not, it doesn’t mean that you should not.

In your journey, don’t forget the future ones too. You wouldn’t want to write a letter like this.
 

Trust me; it WILL get worse if you won’t listen. You might not have anyone to send letters to if we don’t act while we can.