Fireflies
To blog, or write, or sneak out so that when my little boy smiles at me I will not be tempted to drop my pen and carry him. Or be in darkness, as I am now, writing when everyone else is sleeping.
Sometimes it is worth it, sometimes it is not, and it all depends on where the balance of my life tilts.
Beauty
From the window in my office, I could see a sliver of the sea.
At 4pm, it glistens, a beacon for those who care to look. The sun is directly above it and plays on its surface, and the sun’s clouds appear to be yellow graduating to orange, interspersed with white wisps and marred by the dot of a high-flying bird. I imagine the sky plunging to dark blue, at once, as soon as the sun touches the sea.
There is one space in my eye’s periphery where I refuse to look. It is an abandoned construction, the skeleton of a building, an eye sore, and despite my reluctance to look, I am quite familiar with it. It could have been beautiful, but it is not. Its remains stand tall – the symbol of human-nature-gone-bad. It told of the story of people refusing to agree, of a rift dividing partners, the drying up of money, and the final blow, hurling of lawsuit bayonets. I am sure it caused some pain to someone somewhere, maybe until now.
And it is spoiling the view of everyone who cared to look at it. Read More →
To Forever
He had her and then he lost her, when someone whispered to his ear to, well, explore the world and his options. But when he saw her showing off more skin in the tabloids, at the arm of some other man, as if saying come hither and eat your heart out, he groveled at her feet (I made this one up), tormented by the love his father before him had and then lost (and then found again), and wasted no time (well) to sweep the would-be princess (now duchess) to the bondage of marriage.
I am of course referring to Prince William and Catherine, whose love story and grand wedding have captured the world’s imagination – a world hungry for love, it would seem.
Brighter than the Darkest Night
But as it is , the night was still blanketed with stars. But we were excited and could not sleep because of the excitement. We have just painted our Easter eggs, my brothers and I, just a few hours ago. We had 2 eggs each. One of mine had waves of red and blue, the other had a wash of light red, just hint of blush, and I thought it was beautiful. My brothers were equally focused on the task at hand (but their eggs were not as pretty as mine). I almost felt sad when we finished and handed it to our mother so she can paint, with her harsh black tipped pen, an amount on it. She then sent us outside, to the “adults”, so we can hand to them our works of art so they can hide it at the empty lot beside our house. I still remember scouring the wall, silently, with my brothers, tiptoeing so we can see where the eggs were being hidden. But there was only darkness.
At last, the first ray of sunshine broke through and with it, we let out an outburst of delight. We could not eat, or take a bath, or dress, fast enough.
You Can Make this a Special Christmas
I mean the crowds are massive and stifling, the parking is horrible, the merchandise are disgustingly overpriced.
Christmas never used to be this way. It used to be special. The glittery, dreamy, new-clothes-new-shoes-lots-of-gifts-and-sparkles kiddy kind of special.
(Or is it because, then, I was not in charge (and not spending)?)
But I have grown up (as I must) and now it is my turn to make it special for my brood.
(And I wonder, was it stressful too for my mom and dad, or is it more stressful now because the world has become more fast-paced, more guilt-ridden, more material-focused?)
So ever since the countdown for Christmas began, I have been on the lookout for other alternative ways to give or buy gifts without breaking the bank or losing my sanity. Here are some of my picks:
He Made it and It Was Beautiful
If the only prayer you said in your whole life was thank you…
I do not know who Eckhart is, except that he was a German theologian, philosopher and mystic born during the 12th century who wrote such controversial articles that he was tried as a heretic by the then-pope.
But this is not about Meister Eckhart or the Secret. This article is about certain prayers, and thank you.
When the Sky Cries
I mean, all of his 16 pounds-almost-five-month-old-body was tense, as he was screaming at the top of his lungs. Wanting my attention.
I read today that I should expect screaming from my 4-month old baby and that I should not worry – it is normal. That actually, screaming is harder for parents than it is for the babies. Theirs is just an outcry, no matter how desperate and agonizing-sounding it is. Their hearts are not broken. They are just manifesting the need to be held.
Wanting attention. Mine.
Because we were apart for almost 14 hours yesterday, courtesy of a Christmas party that I thought I needed to attend because I wanted to network and socialize.
My reaction to that cry was pain in my gut and unbearable guilt.
Because in the past, when he was just forming the first of his memories, he only needed to reach out his hand to me, or whimper, and I was there.
Life's Simple Pleasures
I had to smile.
Okay. I have to admit that I am not immune to their charms. If anything, I love soft leather, and I certainly can appreciate wonderful craftsmanship. The ooohs and aaahs of the woman who realizes what it is is also a great incentive, I will not lie.