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It’s a new day marked by the sun’s warm breeze

That slowly drifts in her room through the rainbow-tinted windows

She gently opens her eyes and quickly begins to have sweet fleeting thoughts of him

She wonders, also hopes and half-expects,

Do I have a message from him?

Knowing clearly well that a message meant he thought of her, too

And that he had greeted the day ahead with the same wish and hope that she had

She is not aware of it, but even before she had stood and gotten out bed

She had already decided on the kind of day she’ll have

Where a message meant the promise of the most wonderful day

And where none meant she’d rather not have stood and just slept the day away

This is how she lives

Day after day, after

Her happiness, her sadness, her life

All depending on the time and effort

He was willing to offer and give

So today, she reaches for her phone with great anticipation

Anxious and nervous

She reaches and struggles with her thumb

Unaware of the tragedy in her reality

How she relies on someone else for the inevitable

Happiness or sadness that’s yet to come.

Detach

I stand in the middle of a field

Endless tall greens surround me

I feel the cool chill of the wind brush on my face

I close my eyes and hear the leaves whisper

I have no clue where to go, or what to do, and how to start

Do I walk, do I run

I just stand there, in the middle of nowhere, with all the chaos just passing me by

The sun rises, and then it sets

Beginning and endings — all happening right before my eyes

Within my reach, and mine for the taking

Yet I do nothing

Except stand there

And experience the world in still.

Darcy

You came at a most unexpected time, in a most unconventional manner.

And yet, there you are — making me feel things I cannot even recall last feeling.

Hope. —- You have restored my hope.

The sunrise brings new joy again. A day is extra brighter; there’s an elated spring in my walk.

A smile that just won’t fade away.

Sunsets are more meaningful — more romantic.

You are here — holding my hand.

Dreaming. Hoping.

I don’t gaze upon the stars alone anymore. I don’t have to.

You have come.

You are now here, with me.

You have found me.

You have chosen to stay with me.

I know it was not an easy choice — being with me is never easy. I am moody — shifting, left and right.

I am sometimes unreasonable, and force arguments even when there is none.

There are times when I demand for time to be alone — no contact, not even a hello.

And yet, like you are already part of me, you know exactly when I need you.

You give me the space and time alone that I need.

And you wait with open loving arms to take me back when I am done.

You are patient. You are kind.

You have the most caring heart, and you give it all to be mine.

I sometimes don’t see this, but you stay with me nonetheless.

You found me.

You chose to be stay with me.

And I promise to love you until my last breath.

Darling

 

Through the darkest and murkiest of paths

Even and especially through powerful wind and rain

And the highest hikes up a sharp-edged mountain

No matter how impossible to cross and bear

Darling, we held onto each other’s hand tightly

We made each other strong – – – stronger than before

We gave each other courage – – – looking forward to each day and all its challenges

Darling, it’s never easy, but all are worthwhile with you beside me

I promise you now the same promise I gave before

To continue to be stronger when you are weak and tired

To continue to protect when you are faced with danger

To vow to always love and never let you go

To never leave your side and face every day together – – – forever and ever.

A Love Letter

I’ve never really had a proper Valentine’s Day with a significant other. Over the years, it has become significant to me for the wrong reasons: I broke up with two ex-boyfriends on two separate Valentine’s Day. One, on the day itself, and the other, a day after. I don’t really dislike the occasion, and I did what I did with my ex-boyfriends because of immaturity and lack of good timing. I have nothing against Valentine’s Day. I just have not had a good one, I guess. Sadly.

It doesn’t mean I don’t or have never cared for it though. I remember in my childhood, I would make big and small cut-out hearts from red art paper – – – the kind they teach in preschool, but a habit I carried with me until I was in college. The heart-shaped paper cut-outs would always be filled with my notes of love and thanks, which I then decorated further with more hearts and sometimes, hearts with arrows drawn across. Those hearts I’d give to close classmate friends, while the big ones, I gave to mom and dad.

My parents will be celebrating their 42nd anniversary in June. Theirs has never been the perfect union. There had been fights – – – small and terrible ones, there had been so much tears shed, and words that should not have been uttered or thought of, and there had been times when I thought they would be separating. I am so thankful they didn’t, and they never will. In fact, it was the struggles, the problems, and obstacles that made them and their union even stronger – – – that made them love each more. They held on and stuck it out despite all the struggles because of their love for us, their love for each other, and their love for the Lord.

Love. Just a couple of days ago, when dad had to undergo his prostate procedure, I witnessed yet again how strong their love is. I saw them hold each other’s hand as they prayed. I saw how mom refused to leave dad’s side as he was prepared for the procedure. I witnessed their anxieties and fear of the possibility of not being with each other anymore. I teared up at the sight of them, keeping each other in a tight embrace with the most relief and indescribable joy after being reunited again. They spent just a few hours apart, but it seemed like the longest few hours for them. A love that binds and strengthens – – – that’s what my parents have.

And that is perhaps why, despite not having an unforgettable or remarkable Valentine’s Day (yet) of my own to share, I continue to celebrate it. And why not, when I have become witness to just how great, how nurturing, how strong, and how courageous love can be – – – through my parents.

 

‘Ling (For Mom and Dad)

Through the darkest and murkiest of paths

Even and especially through powerful wind and rain

And the highest hikes up a sharp-edged mountain

No matter how impossible to cross and bear

Darling, we held onto each other’s hand tightly

We made each other strong – – – stronger than before

We gave each other courage – – – looking forward to each day and all its challenges

Darling, it’s never easy, but all are worthwhile with you beside me

I promise you now the same promise I gave before

To continue to be stronger when you are weak and tired

To continue to protect when you are faced with danger

To vow to always love and never let you go

To never leave your side and face every day together – – – forever and ever.

 

If You Have Nothing Nice To Say…

Mom and I had our haircuts the other day.

While I was having mine, and mom was waiting for me, an elderly lady came in and started chatting up my stylist. When she noticed my very short hair (I now have a pixie with an undercut), she asked my mom, “Lalaki ba yang anak mo?“(Is your child a boy?) To which my mom politely replied, “Ay, babae po.” (Oh no. She’s a girl.) I heard what she asked despite the hair blower practically screaming at my ear, but I just gave her a smile.

When I was done, she sat next to me and promptly told my stylist she wants the same haircut as mine, but also quickly added, “Kasi may nanliligaw sa akin. Para di na niya ako ligawan. Ikaw, hija, hindi ka dapat nagpapagupit ng ganyan. Hindi ka naman pala tomboy. Ganda ka pa naman.” (Because I have a suitor, whom I want to stop pursuing me. You shouldn’t be having your hair cut that way if you want someone to pursue you. It’s a shame because you are pretty and not lesbian. Your hair shouldn’t be that short.)  I was stunned, but I didn’t say anything and just smiled. There are other battles that are more worth winning.

I am very adventurous when it comes to my hair, in fact right now, I am at my shortest cut, but that does not mean I am lesbian. I am straight. I appreciate women, but I like men. I know I don’t even have to declare or explain it. No one has to really, but sometimes, people have to be told. And so what if I am? A difference in preference does not make one less of a person.

We tend to do that, don’t we? We see a man who’s more refined compared to other men, “Bakla yan.” (He’s gay.) We see a woman with short hair, “Tomboy yan.(She’s a lesbian.) We see a person who just doesn’t smile or laugh as much as most of us, “Masama ugali niyan.” (He/She is a rude person.)

We are quick to judge. We are quick to isolate. We are quick to offend. We are quick to hurt. That’s just sad.

Personally, I don’t really care what people think of me.  Everyone is entitled to his opinion anyway. I’d just like to believe I am now wise enough to know that not all opinions are important.

Dream On

I have very fond and vivid memories of pretending I was a market vendor when I was a little girl. I remember I would put on my mom’s heels, borrow her bag, and pretend I was selling fruits or vegetables, complete with baskets and ‘bilao’, toy food, and play money I made from paper. Of course, ‘this dream’ had a bit of an upgrade when after a few years, I wanted to become a cashier at Shoemart, no less.

As years passed, my dreams changed, from market vendor and cashier to a teacher, an office girl, and quite heavily, a writer and a newscaster. 

Almost everything I did in late gradeschool and most of highschool was directed towards achieving that dream. I joined the school paper, even if I felt I was not any good at it, and so many more were much better than I was. There was even a time I auditioned for a new children’s show – – – a kiddie version of TV Patrol. I passed all the preliminary stages – – – exam, interviews, but fumbled in the VTR where we were made to read the news in Filipino. Weeks before my audition, I practiced reading newspapers in English in front of my parents and of a mirror, but had not anticipated that, for crying out loud, I was auditioning for a Filipino newscast. It remains a good story to tell though, except a friend of mine thinks differently, and would rather tell a story of me competing against and losing to Aiza Seguerra in Little Miss Philippines on Eat Bulaga. A story, which although untrue and made up, is oddly more convincing to most than my audition. 

College was a different story. I saw myself pursuing teaching instead of chasing after my dreams. As much as I love teaching now, clearly it wasn’t my first love. I flunked my entrance exam in UP, and was waitlisted in UST. (Surprise. I was never a good student.) Since I didn’t want to risk not being able to get into UST, I decided to take my second choice – – Education, with the hopes of shifting to my desired course, Broadcasting and Journalism, during my sophomore year. But as fate would have it, after we were made to observe a preschool class during freshman year, I decided to stay on, and the rest, as people say, was history.

I spent twelve years teaching, and completely forgot about my first love. Yet again, fate had its way, with me getting burnt out from my twelve year routine. I needed to do something else, something I lost time for – – – writing. 
I do not regret the path I have journeyed on in the past years. I loved every year I devoted to teaching, and I feel that I will always be a teacher, no matter what. But right now, I feel like I should be doing this, something I should have done years before, to pursue my dreams and take all the necessary steps in attaining it. It doesn’t even have to be something grand. All I hope to do is live my dream, and share it. I want to write, so I do; I want to touch lives and inspire with my words, that, I hope to do. “I have but a small voice; I have but a small dream,” as my favorite Lea Salonga song goes.

Juvenile as it may seem, I have recently committed to keeping a blog and compiling everything I write. I’ve kept countless notebooks in the past, filled with essays that I never got to finish, so now, more importantly, I’ve committed to writing every day and finishing what I write. 

We all have dreams. Some we achieve; Others we do not. Some take longer than the others to be attained; Others require that we go through bumpy roads; Most we set aside, or worse, forget. Do not forget. Take baby steps if you must, but don’t forget. It only gets wasted if it’s ignored, or forgotten, so keep keeping on. Follow your heart, and go where your feet will take you. Believe.