A fan, who wishes to stay anonymous, shared to us her story which is included at the book “chicken soup” (which is a compilation of inspirational stories). And this story is truly inspirational indeed. It choked me up and made me cry. Thank you so much Eva. And I wish you and your father a more awesome future together.

Smoky Mountain Memories

I grew up in the Philippines, in the heart of the slum. My father raised me all by himself. We weren’t poor like the others but life sure was a struggle for us to live by. My mother was long gone before I had the chance to meet her. The rumours had it that she left my father when I was born, ran off with some rich man and had children of their own. My father never talked about her and when I did ask, we always ended up talking about horses. That’s his passion. He works as a janitor at the local race track. He loves it there – not because of what he does but because of the horses. At five, I didn’t know how to ride a bike but I could ride a horse better than anyone.

As the Philippines grew poorer in the 90’s so did us. People were starving and were driven out of their homes to live in the streets. I remember going to school and realizing half of the kids in my class were no longer there. You’d find a whole lot of them at traffic intersections, knocking on car windows with their skinny, greasy hands, helplessly asking for whatever they could get. And thus, when I was twelve, my father sent me to Canada to live with my aunt. I was to make something out of myself. Something that the slum couldn’t offer me. Something that my father and a whole lot of Filipinos never had. A future.

I was really excited but not for the same reason that my father was. Like I said, I’ve never met my mother but the fact never bothered me. What bothered me most was that I’ve never had my own “moment”. I’m referring to that moment when a daughter gets lost amidst the crowd but is not scared because she knows her mother will come and find her. Or that moment when a daughter tries on her mother’s clothes and sees herself as her mother because there is no other she would rather be. The moment when the world doesn’t seem to matter and it is just you and your mother against it all.

When my father told me about my aunt I was beyond excited. I was thrilled and curious at the same time. I was nervous but eager to meet her. It was an emotion I could never describe in one word. I could finally have that moment.

On the plane, I made a list of all the things that I dreamed of doing with my aunt. We’ll have our own girls’ night-out, stay up all night, and talk about boys. We’ll be best friends, each other’s keeper. We’ll share secrets, clothes, and more. We’ll be like the Gilmore girls. Only we’re cooler! My aunt loves to travel and she takes me with her wherever she goes. All around Europe, the African desert and the Egyptian tombs, the white-sand beaches of Thailand, the vibrant green and gold of Prince Edward Island, and many more places that I never thought existed. Life with my aunt is more than I could have ever dreamed of.

But life is never all fun and games. For a long time, I felt like something was missing. I didn’t know what it was and the harder I thought about it the emptier I got. Was it my friends? I tried making new ones and lost touch with others. Was it school? I tried working harder and less. Whichever way I went that same empty feeling was still there. Day by day that excitement that once consumed me was slowly drained out of me. I knew one thing for sure: the only thing that would make me truly happy was to find that missing piece; and I wasn’t going to find it
cruising around the world.

Then came one Tuesday night and a seventeen-year-old boy gave me the answer I’ve been searching for. On April 1, 2008, David Archuleta sang “Smoky Mountain Memories” live on American Idol, in front of millions of people across America. He was simply living his dreams and little did he know he was about to make mine come true. David was about to change my life forever.

“You ought to go north somebody told us
‘Cause the air is filled with gold dust
And fortune falls like snow flakes in your hands

Now I don’t recall who said it
But we’d lived so long on credit
So we headed out to find our promised land

Oh and these northern nights they’re dreary
And my southern eyes are teary
As I wonder how the old folks are back home,
But I’ll keep leanin’ on my Jesus
He’ll love and guide and lead us
Smoky Mountain memories keep me strong

I’ll keep looking to the Father
Keep my head above the water
Smoky Mountain memories keep me strong”

When David introduced his song that night, I knew I was in for a ride. Listening to him described his memories of home and his family struck a chord. And as he sang those words, line by line, from start to finish, I felt a sense of wholeness in my heart that I’ve never felt in a long time. Just like it did for him then, “Smoky Mountain Memories” reminded me so much of home. Of the Philippines. The slum where I grew up in. And my father.

That night I realized how much and how terribly I miss my home. Yes, we lived a hard life but those were the time that matter to me the most. The horse rides with my father made up for all the nights we spent cold and hungry. But thinking about them made me sad. All those time I spent looking for a mother-figure in my life I never realized it was already there. My father has been both a loving father and a mother to me. He is that missing piece and I need him to be truly happy. He’s my Idol.

That same night I found myself dialling the phone. When I heard that loud and crisp voice for the first time in many years I knew what I had to do…

I am ready to embark on a new journey. I am ready to return home, to my father. To where life is.

——————

People say I should thank Dolly Parton. After all, “Smoky Mountain Memories” is hers originally. It’s true. But it takes a great deal of honesty and sincerity to move someone with a simple song. And thus, the credit goes to David Archuleta. Thanks David for my Smoky Mountain memories.

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