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Matagal na rin kitang kasama, tantiya ko’y mag-aapat na taon na. Kilalang-kilala na kita. Kilalang-kilala.
Masarap kang kasama.Napapangiti mo ako at napapatawa. Kung minsan nga ay napapaindak pa ako sa iyong musika. Madalas, ikaw pa ang taga-gising ko sa umaga.
Hindi kita ikinahihiya. Kahit na nga kung minsan may mga tingin na mapangkutya kapag kasama kita. Dahil siguro sa hitsura mo kaya sila nanghuhusga.
Naaaliw ako sa iyo. Kung minsan, kapag kasama mo, humahabi ako ng mga salita at sumusubok lumikha ng tula o talata. O kaya naman ay malayang isinusulat ang nasa aking diwa.
Pero kailan lang ay malaki ang ipinagbago mo. Hindi mo na nagagawa ang mga dating nagagawa mo. Minsan, sumasablay na ang musika mo. Minsan, ayaw mo na ring lumikha ako ng tula o talata kasama mo.
Ibig mo na bang magpaalam at iwanan ako? Kung ‘oo’ ang sagot mo’y naiintindihan ko. Ang apat na taon ay sapat na siguro upang ikaw ay palayain ko.
Alay sa lumang-luma kong Nokia 6610i na ang pabalat ay gasgas na, ang keypad minsan ay hindi na umuubra, at ang screen madalas ay madilim na kaya hindi ko na mabasa 😀
Photo taken from a forwarded email.
Posted 7 years, 7 months ago at 11:03 am. 26 comments
I’m reviving my Postcard of the Week post. I’ve almost forgotten about it hehehe 😀
Today, I am posting a postcard sent to me by Tatjana, a very nice and thoughtful fellow postcard collector. She lives in Latvia, a country in the Baltic region of Northern Europe.
As a long-term average the Baltic Sea, a brackish inland sea, is covered with ice for about 45% of its surface area at maximum annually. Probably that is why the scene looks eerie. Tatjana says it is cold in Latvija even in sunny days.
The word “Latvija” on the postcard is embossed in gold. I think something is wrong with the scanner, the gold color did not show up. I couldn’t enhance the picture to make the gold appear because I simply don’t know how 😀
Bye for now! It’s been raining for days already so stay dry 😉
Posted 7 years, 7 months ago at 12:59 pm. 9 comments
When do we say we are old? Is it when we look for our glasses for half an hour only to find out that they’ve been on our head all the time? Is it when we are no longer able to bend down and tie our shoelaces? Is it when we start to get sags? Is it when we start feeling embarrassed running naked across the street? Or is it when we stop deciding by means of “bato-bato-pik” and “eeny-meeny-miney-mo”?
My grandfather, a farmer and fisherman, died at 83. But it was not his gray hair nor his thick eyeglasses that I remember about him at his age. It was not his shaky hands nor his weak knees nor his wrinkled face. What I remember was his smile whenever he sees his five children and thirteen grandchildren, and his hearty laughter whenever he spends early morning coffee and exchanges stories with his friends.
My grandfather didn’t have a college diploma. He finished only 4th grade. But he knew how to read and he was a voracious reader. Many years ago, newspapers would reach their remote town only a week after it was printed. Pero matiyaga niyang binabasa ang dyaryo, page by page, from first page to last page. He was a learned man even without finishing school. He knew so much about politics even without being a politician. He was able to help his hometown have some concrete cemented roads after he bravely went up the stage and asked permission to talk with the Philippine president at the time. It happened in the 60’s. He loved his hometown and his people so much that even days before his death he was trying to help out some kababayan.
My grandfather did not fear having many years in his life. He embraced it. He loved and enjoyed it. He was in fact looking forward to seeing more grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He enjoyed the antics of his grandchildren and would even joined them in poking jokes. On his last trip to Manila, in 1989, we took him to Rizal Park. We giggled as he jokingly hugged all the dinosaur statues while asking us to take pictures of him.
Was my grandfather old at 83? He wasn’t old for me. Except for the gray hair, the thick eyeglasses, the weak knees, and the wrinkled face, he was all along everything I remember when I got to know him for the first time in my life: a jolly, caring, hardworking, and principled man.
So to answer the question “How old is ‘old’?” I’d say that ‘old’ is when we stop laughing and caring and loving. ‘Old’ is when we stop feeding our minds. ‘Old’ is when we stop seeing things with a child’s sense of wonder. ‘Old’ is when we stop living life and enjoying every minute of it. As George Bernard Shaw (or was it Benjamin Franklin?) put it, we do not stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.
****This is a response to a tag from Emarene. Although my previous post is somewhat related to the tag’s topic, I simply cannot refuse the tagger who sometimes inflates my ego with her comments :D. I later found out that this tag is also a contest. You can visit this link so you can also join. Cash prize and ad spaces await for you. I’m not joining though because the criteria says the post has to be in 50 words. This post is already way over the limit 🙂
Posted 7 years, 7 months ago at 11:52 am. 25 comments
When have you last unleashed your giggling exuberance? Has it been too long since you last giggled? Has it been too long since you last heard within yourself a small child’s ‘Aaahhh” of wonder? Do you still remember how it is to be a child? This post is for you who still do, and this is specially for you who have forgotten.
Think of children splashing around in a swimming pool, children happily flying kites, children sailing paper boats down the stream, children playing piko, siyato and hide and seek, children racing down the street on kiddie bikes…
Think of children giggling, their eyes glistening with unbounded joy and energy and appreciation of the good and wondrous around them.
To a child, a rainbow is a big surprise in the sky. To most adults like us, it is just an array of colors that shows up usually after the rain.
To a child, a 50-storey office is an amazing engineering feat. To most adults like us, it is a symbol of a stressful corporate world.
When a child sees stars, he tries to count them with so much optimism. He, however, does not get disappointed when he is not able to count them all. When an adult sees stars, he would immediately think of the impossibility of counting them.
Too often, we are caught exhaustively in a whirlwind of busyness. We become so preoccupied with work and other concerns that we forget the real things that matter. Our eyes are glazed over by worldly things that sometimes we cannot see anymore the beauty of the world around us and the people who love us. Worse, we even fail to be in touch with ourselves and, in the process, forget who we really are.
So I hope that when we wake up tomorrow, we will try to open our senses to the universe, much like a child does, and be mindful of those magical moments that celebrate the gentleness of life and the little slices of God’s handiwork.
Posted 7 years, 7 months ago at 3:28 pm. 29 comments
I awoke this morning to shrill voices and gleeful laughter. I lazily opened the window and was greeted by children playing skipping rope. I immediately grabbed my camera and snapped a picture.
Children happily playing. Curious eyes looking at the lady who was taking pictures of them from a window across the street. A green skipping rope that blends with the lush green surrounding. A simple scene. Simple yet beautiful.
My heart smiled because of this early morning scene, reminding me of how beautiful our world is.
Well, happy Friday everyone! Try to think of simple yet beautiful things 😉
Posted 7 years, 8 months ago at 11:35 am. 48 comments