Unforgettable Photo

This photo was taken when I was six.

I could never forget why I wasn't smiling despite the photographer's hilarious antics, which rivaled those of a circus clown.

It was the last day of our town fiesta, the highlight of the one-week celebration: Coronation Night.

Miss Umingan was to be crowned by a big-name guest from Manila (it was either a congressman, a basketball player, or a movie star). And I was chosen as the crown bearer—you know, the little underling anointed to carry the crown to the throne.

My job was to march (in a long gown of haute couture that matched the queen's, and with hair permed to the max) slowly to the throne carrying the precious glittery crown, perched on a matching glittery pillow, and I would just stand there, smile, be cute, till the the important guest moved the crown to the queen's royal head.

Even as a child I was terrified of loud bangs. I hated (still do!) firecrackers. But those loud bangers came with town fiestas, especially on coronation nights. I kept jumping in my seat before I could even march. When I was given the crown to finally start marching, another loud bang startled me. And my chin landed on the tip of the crown.

That split-second jerk nipped my chin and flattened the crown's apex. Yet, I had to march!

I got to the throne intact, but the crown looked smashed and my chin was hurting. In my shoes, would you have smiled?

To this day, whenever I see this photo, I could recall what was going on in my mind: I wish firecrackers were banned from the face of the earth—forever.

I still wish the same thing, especially on New Year's Eve, but by grace, I can now grin and bear it.