I once asked mama an awkward question:
Who was your first love, ma? Where is he now?
In the eyes of the young spiral prince, it was but an innocent question. I half expected her to say that it was my progenitor, something instilled by the old Disney movies. Her answer, although different from what was expected, did not bother me at all. I took it as any boy who was genuinely interested in his mother's answer would: without question, and absolute.
It was name.
Does he have a family, too?
From what I heard, I don't think so.
Where is he now?
I'm afraid I don't know, son.
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if that man, whom mama said never married because of her, were to meet mama. Would mama be able to love another man again? What change would come into our lives? Was the absence of a father figure during those years behind the calm with which I accepted the answer?
More importantly, why do I even think of this now? Am I seeking a way out of the responsibility I took? Or this is some sliver of pre-cognition?