Isang Taon mula sa iyong “Pag-uwi”

Hunyo 8, 2013 nang kayo ay umuwi.  (Mababasa ang aking artikulo ukol dito sa A Certain Definition of “Uuwi na ako”)

Isang taon na rin po ang nakalilipas.  Kumusta po kayo diyan? Alam ko pong masaya naman kayo kapiling Niya.

Miss ko na po ang pagsakay sa tricycle ninyo. Lalo na po ang palagi ninyong pagpiprisintang sunduin at ihatid ako, saan man ako galing o papunta.  Mula noong bata po ako, noong elementary pa ako, hanggang ngayon na nagtatrabaho na po ako, wala po kayong mintis sa pagpapasakay sa akin sa inyong tricycle para lamang makatiyak na ligtas akong aalis o darating sa aking paroroonan, lalo na sa mga madaling-araw na mga biyahe.  Nami-miss ko po iyon kasi wala pong ibang taong gumagawa noon, kayo lang.

Isa lang po ang masasabi ko, sigurado na po ang aking pag-uwi ngayong araw para dalawin kayo.

 

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The Hatchlings of Anita Purity

One fine morning, Anita Purity, a white regal dove, felt a delicate snap underneath the warmth of her feathers. Crack, crack, crack. Her eggs were already hatching. Crack, crack, crack and a head full of beige-colored feathers emerged from the white shell. Crack, crack, crack and Anita Purity saw her first child: a beautiful girl, with feathers as fine as Anita’s.

Crack, crack, crack. There was another egg in the nest. Crack, crack, crack. The excitement in Anita’s eyes were not over yet. Crack, crack, crack. The topmost part of the shell fell off. Crack, crack, crack and another head came forth.

But something in this second chick turned Anita’s excitement to worry.

Dark, rugged, uneven feathers lined the head of the second girl. And as it revealed itself to the world, the dark-colored feathers gave a big “Hello!”


Time flew as fast as the greatest flyer of the Purity flock.

The Purities, as their name suggested, were obssessive-compulsive with regards to their family members. They were so strict that names of offsprings were decided via votes, so as to ensure that first names conformed to the definition of the flock name.

Anita’s fair-feathered squab was named Serene. Serene Purity.

On the other hand, because of her dark feathers, the second hatchling was named Im. Im Purity.

Summit of Mt. Damas

Photo by Karina de Capia.


This post had been transferred by the author to another blog named “Nimotsu Counter.” To read more about the destiny of the ugly duckling named “Im Purity,” kindly click here.

A Certain Definition of “Uuwi na ako”

“Uwi” is the Filipino term for going home. So when one says “Uuwi na ako,” he or she means “I’m going home.”

Since I went to college, I am always looking forward to going home. A text to my mom saying “Uuwi po ako” is like a combination of adrenaline rush and a sigh of relief: adrenaline from excitement to breathe fresh air again and relief from all the worries of the urban world. In short, there would be no other place in the world that could give this kind of peacefulness except for home.

But recently, I discovered another meaning for “Uuwi na ako”. It’s something still related to home.


This post had been transferred by the author to another blog named “Nimotsu Counter.” To know what I discovered about the words, “Uuwi na ako,” kindly click here.

Luscious

Luscious

Oh just look at those mouth-watering layers!  The colors are just so enticing!  And the latik at the top… I was walking passed the marketplace this afternoon when the vivid colors of this native Filipino delicacy caught my eyes.  And for more … Continue reading

CALOY, THE INFAMOUS MASTER OF AN INFAMOUS ART

The sun was up.  The sand was warm.  The water was excited to hit the shore.

A hammock was swaying in between two coconut trees.  It carried in it five children, laughing loudly as the cool breeze hit their faces.  Another four were standing near the tree, shouting to have their turn on the hammock.  And Caloy was one of them.

The screaming and begging of the kids were halted when Auntie Beth called for lunch.  The boy next to Caloy said, “Let’s race to the picnic table!”  And off the children went, but not Caloy. Once the hammock was vacated, he saw this as an opportunity to ride in the hammock, solo.  But as soon as he sat in it, the rope connecting it to the trees snapped and he fell to the ground.  Auntie Beth saw this.  But instead of helping him stand up, she said angrily, “Is that how an honor student acts?! You know that five had already been on it and you know that the rope is not strong enough.  But still you sat on it.  Didn’t you realize that? Look what happened to you!  You are an honor student, you should have known better!  And… didn’t I tell you to come and eat?”


This post had been transferred by the author to another blog named “Nimotsu Counter.” To continue reading about Caloy, kindly click here.

 

IS THIS GRIEF?

Grief.  The word seems simple, not too jargonistic, not too deep.

Through the years, I develop my own definition of the word.  I know that it is always associated with death.  I also know that it makes one deeply sad. Movies and TV shows also support my definition.  But that’s the thing, I only know it.

Being in a film production industry, where working hours per day is close to twenty-four and where sleep is not a priority, I always have that “floating” feeling every after shoot.  Everything is so light; I cannot feel anything at all, my body, my emotions seem lost in the atmosphere.

It was already five in the morning of September 24 when I got home from a film shoot.  I alarmed my phone at ten o’clock because I have a meeting by one in the afternoon.  As soon as I put my phone at the bedside, I readily drifted to dream world.

The clock soon struck ten.  My phone alarmed.  Oh yes, it had been five hours but it was not enough to give weight to my floating body and emotions.  As I stopped the alarm, I saw two text messages.  The first one was telling me that my shoot the next day was packed up.  I was supposed to feel a bit happy because I can have more time to rest, but no, there is no emotion.  The next one is from a cousin of mine.  Curiosity was supposed to come out because this cousin rarely texts me.  But I just remained blank.  I read her message.  She said that my grandmother just died, after months of being in and out of the hospital.  I checked the time the message was sent.  It was fifteen past five.

I went out of bed.  I still was not feeling anything.  What’s happening?  I walked towards the bathroom.  I kept asking myself why there was no register of any emotion.  Am I that insensitive?  I undressed myself and turned the shower on.  I closed my eyes, still debating with myself, as the water started crawling.  What was happening to me? Had I just turned to stone?  Then I just heard myself sniffing.  I did not remember I have colds.  The sniffing continued.  I turned the shower off.  But water kept drifting, not from the shower, but from my eyes.

So is this what they call grief?  Is this how the word, which definition I had known for a long time, really feels like?  Is this what happens when one experiences grief?

Image

Mama Linda, it’s almost a month now.  We really miss you.