January 2013 - Digital Outlier

I know love. But it seems I do not know love. She is like a woman that I may not be able to figure out. It seems that what once was a puzzle that I tried solving becomes a labyrinth that gets bigger and
complicated. The more I tried to find the way out the more I am lost inside.

I know love. I tried to love you. But may always fall short of the love you are expecting.

Still, I will continue to make sure that your coffee is served during the morning, whether I am the one who makes it or I ordered others to make it. I will make sure that I always buy your favourite perfume Elizabeth Arden, during Christmas. Although, last December you told me not to buy every year since that last one you are using is half full. The possibility of overstocking of such an expensive perfume might happen.

I will always take into account to monitor your Body Shop Strawberry moisturizer – every day I see you are enjoying it. I too enjoy it, your smell transport me to Baguio, like I was driving under the shades of the pine trees, enjoying the view of the verdant mountains and the glistening cliff. While the cool breeze of the wind gently embrace me. It is too hard to concentrate while you are holding the steering wheel in this psychedelic atmosphere. But I manage to drive may way on top of Baguio.

I will always attempt to buy you jewelleries and shirts, even if I am pretty sure 99% you may not like it. I will consign this to fate. Take this situation as part of trying to show in actual physical form the emotional abstraction I am vent on showing.

I know love. Believes I show love. But may never pass the standards you set on how you should be loved. But I will take comfort of trying. I know that my best move is the jokes I crack and spontaneity that is my character. When you giggle or boisterously laugh because of what I do. I know I have showed you my style of love.

Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. However, somewhere in the constellations of the stars is a comet (me) burning, swooping in that black sky . My illumination might be temporary. But such is our life. Such is my love. Something you may miss when it’s gone. Something may be unrecognizable when it’s there.

Don’t also forget my crazy adventures that you hated but tried and loved in the end.

I hope I can be like a flying kiss that aided by the soft wind landed in your lips. Again, I am Suddenly but gone Instantly. But something you will miss. Something you will say in the same breath as the word LOVE.

8:18 PM
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The Present

Happy

7:58 PM
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Mama

She never graduated for higher education but is more educated than some of those people. She never took any management courses but her management abilities are superb. She never took economics but her financial and business acumen is at par with successful businessmen.

She always prepares a sumptuous food whenever her sons or daughters paid her a visit. Her smile and infectious laugh is like a sprinkle of rain that drenches you in one cool afternoon.

Sometimes her Visayan accent transports you to her childhood where the idyllic farm and nipa hut is a panorama that expands and throbs like gold in the heat of the sun.

Even when she unconsciously sings around her family, as she does household chores, instantly the room is transformed to a sepia picture, and you find your whole being massaged by a jazzy siren. It is this moments that you close your eyes and stretch your hands to feel the cool wind that caresses your skin. It is this encounters that convince you that simple moments are treasures that are to be cherished.

Once there was a boy who was so blessed in having to witness how she showered these simple moments. The boy drunk all these moments like a cold Coke, bottoms-up, he drunk it all, like a thirsty traveller after journeying for days in the desert has seen an oasis.

But the boy knew that sometimes she is like a volcano. She can spew fire and burn you. There was one recurring scene where she will always break a stem of the gumamela plant in front of her house, run after the boy and other siblings every one ‘o clock in the afternoon outside the house, drove them inside the house, give them some lashing, and put them to sleep.

Although the boy knows that the lashing is about them being undisciplined and failing to sleep during siesta in the afternoon. He still gets the shiver seeing her eyes like rolling lava ready to melt him.

Time flies so fast.

Even if the boy wanted to stop the ticking of the clock he cannot do anything because the clock is like a ship that once the anchor is removed and placed inside the ship, it sails in the vast ocean.

He now reflects on the vast ocean with its undulating waves of memories. He now tries to run back the hands of time and be the boy he once knew – thin, army cut hair that makes him look like having a spoon that hangs in his forehead, two protruding front teeth earning him the monicker Tasyo. He tries to bring back the boy who runs; like there was no tomorrow, after seeing his mother from afar and embrace her tightly because he was so afraid she will be taken by ugly monsters, and be gone forever.

She showed that boy who is now a grown-up how love breathes and throbs. For that, the boy will honour her forever.

Happy Birthday Mama!