Rough uneven edges
A shower of grains spilled at every bite
Salty, but not too overpowering to the taste
One pop after another
Can’t, won’t stop now
Leave the bag empty
Leave no trace, not a single grain in sight
Lick the remaining goodness on your fingertips
Anticipate the next bag you cut open wide.
I was busy reviewing a case when I noticed that my reading area had gotten dim. I thought either my eyes were getting tired, or there was someone hovering my area and covering the light. As it turns out, the fluorescent lamp nearest to me had just officially died, and unfortunately for me, the Maintenance Office claims to have no stored bulbs in its supplies. Tough luck. The light from my computer screen is not enough. This is torture for someone with poor eyesight and migraine.
On a lighter note, I just asked an officemate, who is a mother, to serve as an ‘ilaw ng tahanan’. Corny, but it made both of us laugh anyway.
Obstacles. Minor compared to what most are experiencing.
Like in most obstacles, I had two options. One, to dwell on this negativity, rant my head off, and succumb to whatever miserable state I was in. Or two, be more optimistic and claim that as soon as tomorrow (with fingers crossed), my ‘problem’ will have its solution.
There’s an obvious right choice. However, sometimes the obvious right choice is difficult and challenging to do, so I tend to do the other. I rant. I complain. I explode. Sometimes it solves the problem. Most often, it does not.
And that’s why I chose to do the right, more sensible thing. I feel good about it.
Fast forward to a few hours later. Here I am, in the dark again, stuck in the most terrible traffic, faced with yet another obstacle. I am tired. I am hungry. I have food, but I don’t want to eat here. I want to be home with family.
My driver, who’s probably already in his 70’s, seems more tired and much hungrier. He seems more anxious, too.
We talk. I offered him candies and some takeout food, which he happily accepted. He now has a smile on his face, and so do I.
One hour and thirty minutes (and counting) for what was supposed to be just a 20-minute ride home. Unless this car had long mechanical legs or wings, then I can’t do anything (rant, complain, blame myself for choosing the wrong day to run an errand), but wait and be patient.
Patience. My thoughts run back and forth to the fluorescent lamp (or the lack thereof) at the office and the decision to eat some of the takeout food that I have. Just a bit more, we’re moving. Slowly, but moving anyway.
I blink, and it’s not as dark anymore.
I’m home. ❤️
When my older brother and I were kids, taking afternoon naps was a must. It was part of our daily routine. I never enjoyed them. I just wanted to get my toys and play with my neighbor friends. I always tried to look for an excuse to get out of it. One time, I tried tricking my grandmother that I had already gotten my afternoon nap. I remember scratching my eyes to make it a bit red, messing up my pigtails, and heading downstairs yawning and stretching. My grandmother greeted me with a big smile on her face, and told me to go back to my room and take a nap. I didn’t know that I had only spent a few minutes upstairs, and naturally, all the ‘preparation’ did not fool my grandmother, not one bit.
As I grew older, I slowly lost the habit. Afternoon naps became a rarity – – – a luxury. An evening’s sleep most often eludes me. Now most of the time, I catch myself thinking about those afternoons I should have spent napping, but dreaded as a kid.
I should have listened.
Oh. Coulda. Woulda. Shoulda. Zzz.