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.