I remember being in the fifth grade, taking out my frustration on my brothers. I said "fuck you" aloud for the first time in my life. My brothers probably had a notion it was a bad thing to say because they told Nanay about it and I got in trouble for uttering such a vile expression. "Do you even know what that means, Chrisfel? Do you even understand what you had just said?" I just cried my eyes out because there was no use fighting back because I knew I was guilty and I know I had done something terrible. No questions asked. From then on, because they were such tattletales, I vowed to hate my brothers for life.

And they probably hated me back because I was usually so bossy towards them. I was a really strict Ate; I never failed to remind them who was in charge and how I required respect from them. I think the age difference (6 & 7 years) might have played a role. I sometimes felt like their second mother, somehow. I grew up babysitting them, which gave me a sense of responsibility. And I grew to care for them more than anything else. I think that is why, up to this day, I still am a protective big sister.

Anyway, we grew out of fighting and making each others' lives miserable. (It wasn't always like that, of course. We had our awesome moments, too.) It gets tiresome as you grow older, perhaps. All the petty fighting were gradually replaced with laughter and silly moments. The talking back to one another became random life conversations. Fighting over the TV turned into agreeing about a certain show or movie or music. We eventually became friends.

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People are often amazed by the kind of relationship my brothers and I have. When we go to parties or big gatherings, we end up standing in a corner or sitting on a table away from everyone else and it'd just be the three of us, talking and laughing. We have our own world for sure. In fact (and yes, it is a fact), we have our very own language, which Adrienne named, "The Coyocan Language." We speak it and no one else understands, not even our parents. There are times when we'd just look each other in the eye and we'd know what the other was thinking of. We have this really tight bond, us three.

We've always been together, the three of us. I hang out in their bedroom late at night every now and then and they do the same in my room. We just lie on our beds and talk and laugh and reminisce. That's one of our favorite things to do: to reminisce. "Remember when we were at the beach in Hawaii and.." or "Dude, do you remember this time when we.." Things like that. Sometimes we'd share new music discoveries. Or a good book. Or a great indie film. We play in-between aisles in Toy Kingdom, not caring about the salespeople giving us strange looks. We make other kids from the neighborhood jealous when we're running around the house, soaking wet from head to toe, with water guns in our hands. We search for new restaurants, eat in them and rate their food and service like we were restaurant critics. They beat me to death when playing video games, but sometimes they let me win. We walk together through the crowd in Divisoria and ask one another which color or style is most suitable. We tell each other about the girls or guys (for me, of course) that are currently in our lives and we give each other advice, most of which are silly. "Ate, just go for it, man, if you like him..." or "Ate, be careful with that guy.." or "Dude, you should totally ask her out already.." or "Seriously, man, that girl? I do not approve.." We talk a lot about life, that's for sure. But the things we do or the things we talk about do not really matter so much because what's important is we're together, enjoying the company of the other, knowing we'll never be without a friend because we've always got each other.

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Things are going to change very, very soon. Too soon for me, that's for sure. Or maybe it's because it's just hard for me to fathom that the bond of three will temporarily be broken soon. I mean, we've always known that this time would come, but I guess it is never easy until reality hits you. Hard.

For instance, when I was in Paris, I kept thinking to myself how the trip would have been so much more fun, so much more wonderful if only my brothers were around to share the moment with me. I remember telling my cousin, Laura, who had come to see me at Paris from London, how I missed my brothers and how I would appreciate the trip much more if they were with me. "Yes, I'm having tons of fun. Paris is amazing. It's definitely a dream come true...but...I wish my brothers were here."

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We laughed until two o'clock this morning. As I laughed with tears streaming down my face, I could tell part of the tears held sadness in them. I was just thinking, "When are we going to have this kind of bonding moment again?" There's the Internet...a webcam and all of that, but it won't be the same. We've never been separated for more than a month (which was when I went to Paris) since 1994. Us three, we're inseparable.
But all of that will change in a week. I'm going to miss my kid brother so much. I want to be able to protect my brothers as much as I can, to be within reach if they need their Ate for anything. (I mean, come on, up to this day, Bitok asks me if he can go to the mall or to a party, to which I'd reply, "I'm not your mom." Or when Richie wants something, but is usually too shy to ask for it, and I get it for him anyway. It's funny, but it's also the sweetest thing because it shows that I am capable of being a good big sister to them.) But I guess we have to grow up and learn how to get by on our own. He's going to be in Hawaii and I'll be here. I know it's for his own good, so that he may learn to be independent, but the thought of my brother being away for who knows how long just breaks my heart.

One week left.