into the blur

she felt a tingling sensation at the back of her neck as she alighted from the bus. she looked at her watch -- 7:28. "he's going to get into a fit again," she mused.

with her bulky bag on her shoulders, she walked slowly, dragging her heels. her back felt heavy, her neck sore. when she reached their doorstep, she stood a little while longer than she had to before pushing the door open.

"hi.." she said and planted a kiss on his cheek. he turned away without a word.

"had to finish something at the office. sorry i'm late, " she continued. she walked to the bedroom, threw her bag on a chair beside the door and kicked off her shoes. then she sat on the edge of the bed and stretched her back.

"why were you late? you're supposed to get off at 5," a voice behind her said.

"i had to finish something," she answered, "my boss needs them tomorrow".

"and it couldn't wait till tomorrow?" he inquired, "you're probably just flirting around with your friends at the office, wasting time."

"no..." she said with a sigh, "it had to be done today. please, i'm tired. i just got home. can't i rest for a while?"

"your loud-mouthed mother came over," he continued, "acting like a health inspector."

"huh? how so?" she asked.

"she kept babbling and ordering me around. she said the toilet's dirty and the laundry is piling up. and she said you don't go visit her anymore." he muttered.

"mom meant well..." she said softly, "you know how she is."

"well your mother should just shut up and mind her own business," he retorted. "my friends are coming over. what can we use for appetizer?"

coming over again? it has been the 5th time this month. "use whatever's in the fridge..." she answered wearily, "who's we?"

"same, same..." he answered.

the incoming message alert tone of her cellphone sounded. "who's texting?" he demanded.

"i don't know, "i haven't seen it yet..." she said as she reached for her bag.

"well... who is it?" he asked again.

"just my officemate. something about..." she started to say.

"you just left the office and now they are texting. what is wrong with you?" he cut her short.

"i'm getting changed, " she said as she handed him some folded bills, "my pay..."

"my friends will be here soon. what are we having for dinner?" he yelled.

she didn't answer. instead, she walked toward the bathroom. upon entering, she leaned against the door and put her hand on her ears, trying to drown the voice at the other side of the wall. slowly she crouched, and with her hand on her chin silently, no... desperately wished she had her own room. or her life back.

unkissing the frog

i often hear a lot of metaphors and anecdotes, even funny simile's from my married friends and acquaintances about (you guessed it right), their spouses. though it is often intended as a jest, the irony of it is clear as day.

from one female friend, she mentioned that her husband turned into an a_ _ short of two years after they were married. funny thing is, her husband mentioned that he never imagined he would one day be married to a radio. he would've brought the remote control along with her if he did.

during my "single" years, i used to have a ready answer to friends who would ask about my former husby. i would say "i had him raffled off and somebody won him".

with this, let me share a story i wrote at fourteen.

there was once a girl who regularly fetches water from the well. as she was drawing water one day, she was surprised to find a man inside the well. thinking that the he fell into it, she tried to help him out. the man told her that he had been put under a spell and could not get out of the well till a young maiden truly fell in love with him. of course, only a true love's kiss could break a spell.

the following days as the girl fetched water, she also brought along food for him and they would talk and laugh for awhile. as days passed, she felt herself drawn to him for he was sweet and kind and he made her laugh. then the inevitable happened--she fell in love. one kiss and the man was out of the well, and into her heart.

after they were married, she noticed little changes and transformations with her husband. at first, she saw his skin slowly turning greenish. she would try to scrub it off but it would not turn back. she smiled to herself and thought that she would still love him even if his skin turned greener. then, she noticed that his skin was starting to feel scaly and rough. patiently, she rubbed ointments and juices from herbs on it every night. it remained just that. again, she shrugged it off--she would still love him even if his skin became rougher and coarser.

weeks... months... years went by. her husband not only croaks, he growls. his eyes also bulges when angry. his mouth froths and slimy things come out of it. he would not allow her to go out, even to fetch water or speak to neighbors. he would croak his discontent when she does.

she also observed that her husband's arms and feet are growing shorter and surmised that it probably was the reason for his grouchiness. and as his limbs grew shorter, the more he sat on the couch, growling and croaking all day while she did all the chores inside the house. and in-between her chores, he would constantly tell her to hand him this or that, or bring him this or that.

with all these transformations, she continued to love and take care of him anyway.

until one morning she awoke to find herself alone on the bed. she heard a loud croaking coming from the porch. slowly she walked toward it till the sound grew louder. peering from the door, she stood and stared at her husband. he has completely turned into a toad.

and the moral lesson of the story is...
no amount of kissing could turn that grumpy toad back into a man.

(or she could probably put him back in the well where he belongs.)

p.s.

just noticed that what i wrote was "then the inevitable happened--she fell in love. one kiss and the man was out of the well, and into her heart". i didn't say "they fell in love". wondering now, could i have been thinking that the man in the well just showed her sweetness and kindness so he could get out of the well...?

(s)mothering ayel

my mom often admonishes me about cuddling and holding my granddaughter which, in her opinion, is too much. she might get used to it, she says. let her cry... don't pick her up too much...

too much? i don't think there is such a thing as too much hugs and kisses, specially for a six and a half month old baby. besides, i simply can't resist. i just want to hug her and kiss her and hold her. making her squeal with laughter is as much fun to me as it is to her.

i want to be able to enjoy her friendship now, not later. not when she's talking... not when she's grown... i want us to always be there, as she takes her first steps and stumbles. now, when it is our company she seeks... now, when she finds her comfort in our assuring faces and voices...

she's growing up so fast i'm afraid it will all be over soon. in a few month's time, she'll be walking. then she'll be running. soon enough, she'll set out to see the rest of the world. but for now, it's just you and me, kid.

a life outside my own

i usually take the seat right next to a window. not only does it make traveling interesting or fun... it somehow gives a purpose of where you're headed.

i love long-distance drives and depending on my mood, the music on the car stereo could vary from dance music to love songs. sometimes i just listen to it, other times i sing along while enjoying the view from the car window. aside from the endless chatter, the other fun part of long distance drives are those stop-overs and photo shoots of scenic views.

as a child, i used to spend my afternoons sitting on the window sill. till now, i have no idea why. of course we need doors to get in and out of our houses. but except for the usual ventilation thing or the somewhere-to-hang-the-curtains thing or the letting-the-sunshine-in thing, what are windows really for? cars have windows, trains, planes, even solitary confinement cells have a window... a wee bit small, but still there's a one.

my guess is, there is a need for everyone to be able to look somewhere else from time to time. the same way we look to others when things in our life gets tough. then with a sigh of relief comes a realization that things are not as bad as it seems.

as an adult, i remember spending a lot of time looking out my window at night, as if the answer to my inability to sleep was out there. eventually i realized that it did. while i was dying inside, i saw a lot of living going on outside. it was then that i decided to get away from my window, open the door and step out.

windows aren't made for going out anyway--they merely allow you to feel a little sunshine, a little air and give you a glimpse of what's outside till you decide to use the door and rejoin the world.

and as i am writing this piece, i have come to understand why i sat on the window sill as a child. while the adults in the family were off to work and school, i was left at home with our housekeeper. looking out the window made me feel a little less alone.

amusing myself

my favorite place in the house was the window sill. i probably thought about a lot of things sitting there but could not remember what. so there i sat for hours, looking at the world from a window, watching neighbors walk by. sometimes i read a book... other times i just wriggled my feet till i fell asleep.

the best part though, were rainy afternoons when the streets would be empty and the leaves a clean green. i remember counting the raindrops as they fell onto the pavement. one had to be imaginative to amuse oneself.

there were more trees then--more open spaces with greens. on rainy days, i would take my little umbrella and with my basket, walk leisurely in the rain. i must've seemed like a strange vision, walking in the rain as if the world belonged to me.

there was a wide, vacant land a few meters from our house. i think it used to be a rice field--(now an open garage used for heavy equipment machineries) there were a few rice stalks growing in the small body of water at the side of the elevated area. we flew kites there during the summer but on drizzly days, it was an even more fascinating place. there were several aratiles trees teeming with round, red fruits and a variety of other plants and vegetation. i would pluck one leaf of each kind and examine them carefully before putting them into my basket.

further across the field were vines with edible (for i am still alive) fruits resembling a miniature passion fruit--the ripe ones turn yellowish and tastes like it. i also remember one clinging plant with scattered pink flowers (coral vine, i think) so pretty i used to put them in my hair. when my basket is full i would then saunter back home, pleased and contented with my loot.

the rest of the afternoon would find me back on the window sill with feet dangling and face pressed on the grills, silently wishing that the next afternoon would again be one rainy session.

chapter eleven : the tale comes to an end

this is just a tale, not a fairytale... happily ever afters not included.

the first-born prince has since gone back to the castle with his princess while the once young wife continued to live with her son and mother at the cottage. she has grown up, been strengthened by pain and healed by time.

she is now married to a commoner who treats her like a queen... well, almost.

is she happy? couldn't say... that's for her to decide. but she has definitely gone a long way more than better. she still goes through life like on roller blades but she is laughing. she is with people she loves and for her that's more than enough.

chapter ten : from once upon a time to not happily ever after

being born and raised in a castle, the first-born prince was not entirely adept with labor and was having a difficult time making both ends meet. the young wife didn't like the idea of her husband coming to the castle to ask for provisions from the queen so she did her best to cope with the expenses of a growing family by doing labor herself. they were still summoned to the castle on occasions, though, but the regular distance between them spared her from further discomfort.

years went by and the son of the first-born prince led a normal life--that of a commoner. their home was no castle but to his mother, he was every inch a prince.

to herself, the young wife knew that the first-born prince was missing the luxurious and carefree life he had. she felt his growing discontent and indifference about being obligated to a family and desperation of wanting to get out of it. the young wife on the other hand was evolving into some kind of person--the totally-independent-from-the-spouse kind.

eventually, the first-born prince sought for ways of escape... in the arms of other princesses.

the young wife took him back each time he would return home. out of love? could be... out of commitment? probably... out of wanting to make it through the end? maybe.

but the young wife was almost sure that something was about to end... that thing between them that was probably never meant to be and seemingly doomed from the start.

chapter nine : the son of the first born prince

life in the cottage was quiet and simple. the young wife did all the chores and made sure her husband would at least be comfortable. the first born prince was now living amongst commoners and was slowly getting used to being one of them.

not long after, the young wife got pregnant. when the queen learned of the pregnancy, she summoned the first-born prince. and between the two of them, the queen asked her first-born son how sure he was that it was he who fathered the young wife's child.

the young wife knew about the conversation but she didn't care. the way she didn't care when the gown the princess wore when she stood as bridesmaid at her wedding was the exact duplicate of her wedding gown, save for the color. she didn't care either when the queen had her examined by the royal physician to determine if she was chaste or not before she and the first-born prince were married. all she cared about now is that she was going to be a mother. it was the happiest nine months of her life for her husband was most caring and attentive. and, it would be her love and not the queen's that will nourish her infant.

the young wife stopped caring whether the queen liked her or not. if she didn't, that was her problem and the queen has got to learn to deal with it.

chapter eight : the road back to the cottage

through her tears, the young wife started packing her belongings, placing them neatly inside her suitcase. when she came to the castle, she was full of hope and eagerness. she hadn't counted on love being so complicated and heartbreaking.

but right now, all she wanted to do was go back. there wasn't anything she can change in her life, but she can always go back to her mother's cottage.

she didn't know if the first-born prince would leave the castle with her. he might not want to give up the life he has known to be with her. she does not even know if he loved her enough to leave everything behind. but she knew she would not take it against him if he chose to stay behind. she loved him that much. but there isn't any way he can make her stay in the castle. she didn't belong there, and he hadn't done anything to make her feel she did.

to the young wife's surprise, the first-born prince decided to leave with her. when the queen learned of this decision, she was enraged and told the prince that the only thing he can take with him when he leaves are the clothes on his back.

the sun was almost setting when they started their way back to the cottage, walking in silence. the young wife was looking ahead. she felt herself growing stronger with every step she made away from the castle.

in the dusk, the young wife saw the cottage from afar. the glowing light from its windows made her smile. she nudged her husband and like children, raced towards the cottage that was to be their new home.

chapter seven : a dark cloud hovers above the castle

the young wife became very cautious of the things she would say or do inside the castle. she respected and abided by the queen's rules. but in her heart, she wished the queen would also understand that she came from a different household where things were done differently. if only the queen would be a little less critical and more tolerable-- she was doing her best to please her.

early one day while she and her husband were in the confines of their chamber, the queen suddenly stormed in. with voice raised, she reprimanded the young wife for apparently telling tales about her to one of the queen's female friends. the young wife was surprised. she saw that queen's particular friend a few times during parties or gatherings, but she hasn't spoken to her even once. in fact, she never starts any conversation with any of the family's friends.

the young wife's eyes looked around for her husband. she saw him slowly walking out the door, easing his way out of the room. she bit her lip, holding back tears. she was trying to explain herself but the queen would not let her put in even a word to her defense. suddenly, the angry voice of the king echoed. he was addressing the queen, ordering her to stop picking on the young wife. the queen was adamant, refusing to stop. the young wife looked at the king in amazement--it was the first time she heard him speak that way. for this particular instant, the laconic king's voice thundered, dismissing the queen. when the queen left, the king approached her and softly patted her on the shoulder.

a few minutes later, the young wife opened their clothes cabinet, sat across the floor and stared at its contents. then she put her hands to her face and started to cry.

chapter six : the lonely peasant girl

as life in the castle became more difficult and finding no solace from the first-born prince, the young wife would often retreat to her chambers, sit in a corner and cry softly. feeling so lonely, she would travel several miles back to her mother's cottage and bask in the ambiance of her old home. she would lie on her bed and feel its warmth. it somehow gave her refuge and comfort. when it was time to go back to the castle, she would leave a note for her mother, saying she just happened to pass by. the more she went to the cottage, the lonelier she got.

there were times that she would chance upon her mother at the cottage when she came to visit, but kept mum with the difficulties she was going through. it would surely break her heart if she knew. the young wife also made sure that her mother never saw her hands, wounded & infected from the detergents used in the castle. instead, she entertained her with funny incidents and conversations she had with the other princes. the young wife's mother relaxed and felt comforted. everything seems alright with her little girl and the valiant prince was keeping up to his promise that he would always take good care of her.

chapter five : in her shoes, literally

she was born and raised in a family without servants, so the young wife was adept at keeping her bedroom tidy and orderly. when she moved into the palace, she fixed up their chambers so that everything would be in place. there were instances when she would notice that some items in their room would be moved or misplaced. she figured it must be one of the servants, making a quick clean up as was their duty.

upon arriving home to the palace one day, she went up to their chambers to find evil nina trying one of her skirts on. it turned out that evil nina would sneak up to their chambers, try on not only her jewelries and shoes, but also her clothes.

the young wife didn't say a word to spare evil nina the obvious embarrassment. but to break the awkward silence, she said, "my skirt sure does look good on you..."

chapter four : the intricate palace of the laconic king

as the days wore on, the young wife tried her best to fit in. she found that she got along well with her husband's brothers. the king have not really spoken to her except for instances when he would ask her if she had already eaten, or where her husband might be.

things were quite difficult with the queen, though. the young wife felt the queen's eyes on her constantly. she would be admonished, sometimes criticized for chores not done according to castle rules. the young wife would then ask evil nina how things are supposed to be done, not knowing that the devious castle-keeper will never be sympathetic to a commoner. the young wife did her share of chores around the castle. she would help with the dishes and sometimes did the cooking. during weekends, she would be assisting in the kitchen while her husband together with the other princes slept till lunch. they would be awakened only when the table has been set. she also helped in cleaning the castle, and would even volunteer to clean the chambers occupied by the king & queen.

laundry was another thing. the queen told the young wife that all soiled clothes must be put in the laundry area so that the servants can wash and iron them. she did exactly that. but when the young wife would go to the laundry room to gather her & her husband's clothes they haven't been washed yet. she found out later that evil nina removes their clothes from the bin, excluding it from the laundry. hence, the young wife decided to do the washing and ironing herself.

when the queen saw the young wife washing and ironing their own clothes, the queen admonished her, saying that what she was doing was not only a waste of soap but of electricity as well. a sympathetic servant told the young wife that evil nina had told the queen that the young wife keeps their dirty clothes inside the cabinet (together with the clean ones) and refuses to bring them down to the laundry area which is why the servant was unable to wash them.

the young wife never answered back. she would just bow her head and let the queen say whatever she wishes to. through all the times that she was criticized and reprimanded by the queen, her husband--the first-born prince would simply walk away. it was instead the quiet king who often came to her rescue.

the young wife was slowly beginning to realize that her valiant prince was born without a spine.

chapter three : the rules of the castle

a few days after settling down, the young wife did her best to learn the ways of the castle. she befriended the servants who were just a few years older than herself. she noticed that evil nina was always hovering around everytime she was with the servants, listening to their conversation, watching her every move. eventually, she learned that evil nina relays to the queen in detail about everything she has ever said or done while the queen is out of the castle.

one day, she was summoned by the queen. she was in one of her storytelling moods. she told the young wife of her own life as a newly-married queen, of how the old queen gave her a hard time and of the way she was treated. it was then that the queen showed her the family jewels. she didn't know why. and she didn't ask.

the queen also told her that in her days, she didn't go to sleep until the old queen was asleep herself. in her mind, the young wife knew that the queen was subtly telling her that that was what she was supposed to do, too. she was also expected to help with the castle chores. the young wife was confident for she knew how to do housework. and, the queen added, bedroom doors are to be left open at all times. even at night.

the young wife felt that the queen didn't like her at all, but she understood. she married a prince. and to a queen, no woman will ever be good enough for her princes.

chapter two : wife of the first-born prince

upon arriving at the castle, the young wife went up to the chamber prepared for them. it was actually smaller than her old room. she thought of her mother. sadly, she sat on the bed and started unpacking her belongings.

the days that followed gave her the chance to get to know the people living in the castle. the eldest child, the princess, was several years older than her. she was always out on engagements and comes home late. she also loves being fashionable & stylish. the 2nd prince was friendly but somewhat serious. he socializes every now and then, but would rather keep to himself most of the time. the third prince was a lively, boisterous young man. she thought that this prince was the friendliest of all her husband's brothers. the youngest prince, on the other hand, was kind of reserved and the queen dotes on this little one. the king was quiet man. in fact, he hardly ever talks. looking at him, she saw kindness beneath the furrowed brow and serious face.

in her mind, the young wife was thinking. she was married to the first-born prince yet do not see herself as a princess. the castle has a king. but in reality, it was the queen who ruled.

chapter one : evil nina

once upon a time, in a kingdom not that far, far away lived a king & queen. they had five children-- a princess and four princes. the queen had a lady-in-waiting... her name was evil nina.

evil nina had this stern, judgmental look on her face. you would think she was the queen and the castle belonged to her. she had thick, wiry hair and she walked like a man.

it soon came to pass that the eldest prince got married and took home his bride. the young girl was not of royal blood, but they were not poor, either. she came from a middle-class family who afforded her a good education.

the young girl was an only child and it broke her heart to leave her mother alone. but she loved the prince so much, so she brought her belongings to make her home in the castle. the young girl was eager to please the queen and get along with everyone, including evil nina and her entourage of servants.

when the young girl arrived at the castle, she was ecstatic. but alas, the young girl had no idea that the valiant prince she thought she married was actually a wimp.

hobbyist

she stared at the jars of cookies in front of her. they were staring right back. cookies of different shapes and sizes--stars, clover, mushroom, squarish, circular... she even made some with festive decorations. they looked like they were all trying to squeeze their way in... or out. she had spent her entire weekend making them.

she just wanted to take things off her mind. she's been getting to be so good at it -- replacing her hubby with a hobby. thinking back, she recounted them. each time she felt uncomfortable or eerie, she focused herself around something.

dumped for another woman. hmmm, might as well finish college and get a degree...

got back together. now i have to find a job to support us...

marriage slowly beginning to shake... starting to rumble... it's rocking!! think i'm getting dumped again... wouldn't hurt to get a master's degree... night classes will be great... i was right about the dumping... hey, i'm getting really good with this intuition thing... think i can make it into a career? naahhh...

got back together. again. now i'm getting a headache with potentials of becoming a sensational migraine... think i'll feel a lot better if i just smash my head onto the wall...

dumped. again? yes, and duped... on the side. oh gad! gotta bake... but i've got several jars of cookies with no one to eat them... gotta paint...anything!!! walls? no, too wide... not enough paint... do i know candle-making? no, guess not.. how about soap-making? would have to buy glycerine somewhere in quezon ave... too far... i'll make figurines instead... paint them later when they harden... make them real colorful... yeah, i'll make funny fat faces... funny fat faces with big open mouths..

the children are playing

looking back now, i guess we looked kind of cute, or funny--a young girl taking care of a little baby boy. but nevertheless, i have always enjoyed being a mom.

when my son wakes up from his afternoon siesta, we would watch sesame street and the electric company together (actually, both shows are also aired at 9:00-10:00 in the morning). i am not sure if he understood what he was watching then but i was having the time of my life. you see, i was just a kid myself.

when he was around 7 (or 8?), i realized he played the family computer better than i do. correction... a whole lot better. the truth of the matter was, it was me who played like a seven-year old. commando & battle city were our favorites because they were two-player games (meaning, i can play too...!). other times, i would just watch him play mario and secretly wonder where he learned to do all that keypad/joystick manipulation. certainly not from me... and neither from his dad.

commando's default player had only three lives, but we learned a trick for both players to have thirty. keypad press: up-up, down-down, left-right, left-right, B-A, select, start. towards the middle of the game would find us squabbling over who gets the ammunition called "spread". sometimes the fixation over that particular ammo would end up with my player leaving his player (or vice versa) and thus get killed.

with battle city, we fight over who gets the "stars" which transforms our player tanks to hard metal, making it resistant to other tank's ammo. unlike in commando where we leave each other's player behind to die, battle city ends with our tanks blasting and firing at each other. now wait just one minute... did i mention i was playing with my son here?

but there was one afternoon that will always remain special to both of us. i remember that day in particular because it happened to be our town fiesta. not wanting to socialize with relatives who pick on me by rendering endless monologues for marrying so young, my 3-year old and i spent the whole day locked in our bedroom. for his amusement (and mine), we made a colorful paper plate monster... a big-mouth puppet... a jack-in-the-box... a dancing clown puppet... a jumping jack... paper cups you can actually use without spillage... a paper bag monster... paper crowns, paper boats & planes...

my son is now father to a little girl whom i totally adore. i am not sure if my eyes can still see clearly when she's old enough to play video games, but i'm definitely not going to quibble with her over who gets what. but i am looking forward to spending even just one very special afternoon with her making a colorful paper plate monster... a big-mouth puppet... a jack-in-the-box... a dancing clown puppet... a jumping jack... paper cups you can actually use without spillage... a paper bag monster... paper crowns, paper boats & planes... and while we're at it, i am thinking of teaching her how to make a kite... and then fly one.

the V-day

he gave her flowers, that he did. valentines & anniversaries... say what you may but that guy sure remembered special occasions. he always gave her a dozen--red, sometimes pink roses. it was only on their last two years together that he gave her three. "quantity of flowers is equal to the depth of feelings..." she thought, smiling. other occasions like birthdays and mother's day, he gave gifts. but it has always been flowers for v-day and annivs.

a particular valentine came back to mind. it was a saturday and she was sleeping late when the smell of roses awakened her. she leisurely opened her eyes... a bent figure was holding something, gently brushing it to her nose. it was her husband, waking her up with the scent of roses and greeting her a happy valentines day. apparently, he had gotten up earlier than usual and rushed back home before she awakens--to surprise her.

that saturday valentine gave her more than just surprise. it became one of the fondest memory she keeps... to this day. she may no longer miss the bearer, but hey, she sure does miss the flowers.

you singin' to me...?

"eight months... or nine, is it?" she thought as she sat amongst the pile of clutter in her room. there were clothes everywhere, albums, framed diplomas and graduation pictures, movie magazines and body-building books, useful stuff, useless ones... all piled up and waiting for her verdict. she had two big boxes across the room--the "out" box for the items she was going to get rid of and the "store" box for other items she hasn't decided on.

she looked at the confused and disordered collection around her. "the clothes are definitely going..." she thought and bit her lip, "or i could probably turn them all into dishrags."

she had been in this lethargic state for some time... even her hair felt like it had a mind of its own and decided to look flat, dull and ugly. her eyes were another thing. the harder she laughed, the less happy she looked. turning the cd player on, she then sat on the floor, shifted and turned till she found her most comfortable position. slightly she turned her head towards the player and stared--it was marco sison, singing "always".

woman, i will love you always
and i, promise I'll give you the best
my love, you mean more than life to me
and I love you more than words can say

you, you'll be the only one
that I'll love for always
forever to cherish

i want you close to me
and hold you endlessly
and feel you girl in my arms, always

in the midst of dust and clutter, a faint recollection came back to her. she was tidying up the house then, she remembered. her husband came through the door, holding something in his hand. he walked past her and straight towards the stereo component. she heard a click--he was playing something on tape. it was marco, belting out this same song. her husband came towards her and asked her to dance. she slowly released the broom she was holding onto and placed her hand on his shoulders. while they were slow dancing, he was singing the song to her ear. from then on, it became their unofficial "song".

you, yes you are my sunshine
you are the reason I breathe for
and there's nothing I want more

i need you,
i need to have you in my life
i want you always by my side
now and for always

whisper the words to me
that we will always be,
together, just you and me forever

i want to give all my love
my heart my soul my life
everything that i am… always

her eyes misted. it seemed too long ago. wiping a tear from her eye, she got back to the array in front of her. "all you clothes are definitely out, out, out..." she murmured, "you should've gone away with him." the last verse of marco's song feebly echoed...

i want to spend with you
baby my whole life through
every moment loving you... always

"oh, yeah... sure," she said loudly. legs still numb from sitting down too long, she stood up carefully, slowly. with the folded bundle of men's clothing in her hand she walked across the room and tossed them all into the "out" box.

ten to eight

early in the morning when you wake up
and your sleepy head is into make-up
when you gaze into your mirror
while you paint your face
and you check your eyelashes making sure they're in place
and your mind wanders off into another time

and you think of him
and how it should have lasted
while the disc jockey man gives you the weather forecast
memory makes you feel so mellow
while it gets you high
and you remember how you laughed
and how he made you cry
then you look into your mirror as you brush your hair

brush your hair to the rythm of the music playing on the radio
paint your face while you listen to the talking of the jockey on the early morning show
put your troubles in the back of your mind
coz' the temperature outside is just fine
and it's ten to eight
and you ain't got the time
(and you just ain't got the time...)

so you walk across your room
and start to make your bed
then you slip into your jeans
your eyes still feel like lead
and the memories seem to vanish
but the thought's still there
and you tell yourself you don't
but deep inside you still care
deep inside you still care...

narda... darna... whatever...

i've seen and heard a lot of commentaries about the effects of television and movies on impressionable children. my favorite tv show was sesame street and the electric company. not only were they entertaining, they were also very educational. in fact, i continued watching them even till i was already a mom. but then, i was just seventeen.

but the movie that probably had the most influence on me was DARNA-- now who played the immortal character on film? rosa del rosario, liza moreno, eva montes, gina pareno, vilma santos, nanette medved, & anjanette abayari (other actresses portrayed the same character on tv, though). the ones i vividly remember as a young girl were those of liza moreno's and vilma's. darna's character had to contend with arch enemies such as valentina, babaing tuod, babaing lawin, impakta, & planetwomen to name a few. i would always watch them with awe, my face glued to the television screen.

our old house was then under a major renovation, hence--abundance of gravel and sand in our yard. i was eight.

coming out of the house with a smirk on my face, i felt confident. i just saw darna at ang babaing lawin on tv. i went straight to the gravel mound, eyes searching for something very definite. i ransacked the pile looking for a small round, smooth stone. having found one that met my requirement, i quickly got a fine-tipped pentel pen and carefully inscribed the word "darna" onto the stone. voila!

having completed my mission, i ran towards the backyard, stone in hand. i swallowed the stone and to finish it off, whispered "darna...!" nothing. it must've been because i whispered. this time i shouted with all the volume my vocal chords could muster, "darnaaaaa!!!!" i waited for a moment. still nothing. no smoke, no transformation. no nothing. disappointed, i sat down on a rock and wondered where my talisman could be. i figured it must've traveled to my large intestines by now.

to this day, i'm still wondering if that could have been because of impressionability. or was that a symptom of early psychological incapacitation? or perhaps a tinge of narcissistic personality disorder with traces of anti-social behavior?

but wait...! the stone could still be inside me. who knows, it might work this time.

getting acquainted with mr. alcohol

somebody once told her that alcohol is an acquired taste--you have to get used to it to appreciate it. if that is so, then it's either she never developed the appreciation due to lack of acquisition or she simply just can't get used to it hence, the undeveloped appreciation. either way, alcohol has not played a major part of her liquid intake.

at least not till 2000 (which stretched to 2002). it was not a regular thing though, not if you consider every friday of the week as regular. she had this batch of officemates who loved to sing and, well... drink. they were a fun group and it was as if they were put together for a reason. in between bottles was a sob story -- a melting pot of broken hearts.

but she was a light drinker. one bottle of beer and she'll be laughing her head off. two bottles and she'll be singing her way home... waving to bystanders... saying hello.

there was one time they decided to get drunk on a monday. still another time they had beer instead of coffee for 3pm office break.

she wasn't drinking to forget the pain, though. she drank because she wanted to laugh. but drink as she may, the pain remains. she decided to learn to laugh. again. without mr. alcohol's encouragement.

she still sees mr. alcohol every now and then... but they just nod or wave in recognition.

hi, moses...

church altar covered with lavender curtains...
people going through the stations of the cross...
long church processions with huge holy statues on parade...
voices chanting the pabasa (ng pasyon)...
menu of salted egg, tuyo, daing...
television channels without regular programs on...
hot and humid weather...
ten commandments on tv...

i see moses once every year, during the season of lent. there was one time we even saw this movie on the big screen. when it came to the scene where moses parted the red sea, the audience started clapping.

holy week brings back to mind a lot of memories from my childhood.

"wag kayong maingay, patay ang diyos!" admonished my aunts and uncles playing mahjong.

"wag kayong maliligo paglampas ng alas tres, patay na ang diyos."

"ang lalakas nyong tumawa, para kayong mga hudyo!" continued my aunt while scrambling the mahjong tiles.

my cousins and i talked in hush-hushed whisper and walked in tiptoes lest we be sent off to sleep. we would scurry off and giggle hysterically as soon as we were out of sight, and spend the rest of the afternoon on the roof, talking about nothing in particular. the best part of lent for us kids was easter sunday and my grandmother's guinatang halo-halo, palitaw and other kakanin's. it was a tradition i kept till now.

now going back to moses. i saw the movie the ten commandments this good friday and only after seeing it for the nth time wondered why he--moses would have to hand his rod to aaron and tell him to do this or that.

"aaron, place my stick on the floor..." (moses was just a bend away from the floor while aaron was standing far back in the palace crowd)

"aaron, touch the tip of my rod to the water..." (he--moses, was nearer the water)

i am surprised that he didn't hand aaron the rod and asked him to part the red sea. hmmm...

but my favorite character in the movie was queen nefretiri (played by anne baxter) and the way she said, "oh, moses... moses... moses..."

well... bye for now, moses. next year, my granddaughter will be old enough to watch you part the red sea.

for the last time

she had been lying awake. she used to be able to cry herself to sleep, but after several weeks, the best she could do was stare at nothing. pulling herself up from under the covers, she reached for her cup and walked towards the coffee maker. good old coffee maker--as wide awake as she was, keeping her company till morning. that and her cigarettes. she looked at the pack: surgeon general's warning--smoking can be hazardous to your health. "to hell with that surgeon," she muttered as she lit one. "if i wanted to die i would've jumped off a bridge."

she turned on her cd player, careful not to set the volume too high. it's 3 am, almost. sitting atop the table by the window, she crossed her legs and smelled her coffee. south border was playing.

tell me that you love me for one last time
let me be the one you need for the night
you know that it makes me feel just like dyin'
but it's just a way to ease me
when i'm crying hard

i longed for you and i
to be in love for all time
but now you seem to drift
now your love has come to an end

let me kiss and hug you for one last time
tell me this is just a dream
runnin deep in my mind
you know that i just can't stand
life without you
it's hard to face reality
believing you are gone

if only there's a way
to win you back someday
i care for you
like i never cared before
say you will stay

for the one who changed my life
for the one who made me cry
for the one who'll never die in me

still looking out the window, she wondered why nights can be so teasingly longer when you weep. she knew she cannot go on like this. it was not only stupid, it was useless. she took a deep breath and dragged herself towards the bed. "tomorrow, i will be better," she half promised-half convinced herself.

setting the player to turn off after thirty minutes, she plopped on the bed, allowing her weary thoughts to be lulled to sleep with south border's song pilgrims...

changing lanes

"hi M, you doing anything tonight?" she said over the phone.

"no, not really... you wanna go out?" M answered.

"very. i have something i want to tell and i want to tell you first," she said. "what time do we meet?" she continued.

"i can be there at 7, same place," M said.

"ok, see you," she said.

she sat on a bench facing the dancing fountain, looking at the lights as they changed colors. the breeze from the sea was making her yawn. she cast her eyes around. it seemed like a gathering of sorts--young couples walking hand-in-hand... old couples sitting on benches... children running, their squeeking voices blending with the sound of the water from fountain... foreigners taking pictures... vendors selling whatever. she rummaged through her bag for her cellphone--7:05. she never liked watches and this cellphone thing all the more justified not having to wear one.

she looked around and saw M coming towards her, half smiling, browse furrowed. she smiled back.

"what?!? what's that face? what's up?" M said as she sat down beside her.

"in a while... first let's get something to drink. i haven't had lunch but i'm not hungry," she said.

they picked a table just beside the promenade right next to the bay. M got herself a hot choco while she ordered strawberries and creme frappuccino.

"so," M continued, "do you want to sing after eating?"

"anytime now," she answered, "let's go."

she loves music and can actually give a decent rendition, but M's voice is, well, great. that was one thing she loved about her.

"when will you stop singing those kind of songs?" she asked.

"what? what songs?" M answered.

"love moves in mysterious ways... i know i need to be in love... those songs," she said.

M smiled and said, "well, what's up? tell me."

she slowly faced M and said, "umm... i'm getting married, that's what."

M stared for an instant, mouth half open.

"you'll let the flies in," she said.

"you're not!" M exclaimed. "when? to whom?"

"oh, some guy..." she said laughing. "i'll get you to meet him next time, just wanted to tell you first."

M sat quietly, looking out to the horizon.

"M... you okay? aren't you happy for me?" she said.

"i am..." M started, "it's just, i don't know..."

"hey, if i can be happy again, so will you!" she said, taking M's hand.

M sat motionless, staring ahead.

she met M six years ago, in megamall. coming out of carl's when who walks by but her husband, his arms around M. unable to control herself, she followed and confronted her husband. "now you tell me that it was not another woman. that you left because things weren't working out between us and you wanted to be alone to think!"

M on the other hand was standing from a distance, saying nasty things to her. she gracefully went up to her and said loudly, "i am the wife, remember? and that is my husband you're with."

the sound of M's incoming message alert brought her back. funny how some things turn out, she thought. she lost her husband to M. her husband had their marriage annulled because M wanted to get married. she could've given her hell, but they instead ended up as friends. loved the same man, maybe? shared pain, probably.

"it would seem the annulment was really meant for you..." M suddenly said.

"maybe..." she said, "but i went through hell!" she continued, laughing.

"i'm really sorry for all the hurt i've caused you. maybe this is what i deserve for breaking up a home," M said softly.

"sshhh... it's all in the past," she said, "it was not entirely your fault. i had mine. and i could not make him stay if he wants to leave."

"did you already have plans of getting married when i gave you the court decision?" M asked. she had been asking her ex-husband for a copy of her freedom papers. after over a year of trying, she finally decided to call M instead and ask if she might have it. she did. her ex-husband left it along with most of his clothes when he in turn, left M.

"no. i just wanted to change my name. i didn't know i was getting married till four days ago and i wanted to tell you before i tell anybody else," she answered.

"i am happy, really i am. you deserve to have a second chance," M smiled.

"it will come for you too, trust me," she told M.

"did you know that after your annulment decision came out, he became different? turned out he had no intentions of marrying me at all," M said.

"his loss, not yours," she said.

it was already half past eleven. "come on M, let's walk," she said, taking M's arm.

her hand still in M's arm, they walked on silently along the promenade, passing the videoke machines along the way. suddenly, a familiar song lingered in the air.

the hardest thing I've ever done is keep believing
there's someone in this crazy world for me
the way that people come and go through temporary lives
my chance could come and I might never know

I used to say "no promises, let's keep it simple"
but freedom only helps you say goodbye
it took a while for me to learn that nothing comes for free
the price I paid is high enough for me

i know i need to be in love
i know i've wasted too much time
i know i ask perfection of a quite imperfect world
and fool enough to think that's what i'll find

so here i am with pockets full of good intentions
but none of them will comfort me tonight
i'm wide awake at 4 a.m. without a friend in sight
hanging on a hope but i'm all right...

"hey M..." she said.

"...what?" M answered.

"somebody's singing your song..." she said.