beeyoungka

[beeyoungka]

420

Let me start by saying, I have the virus. And I’m sad I have it.

And as much as I want this writing to be as cool as that of Will Smith’s character in I am Legend where he records his daily activities and progress in finding an antidote to the global zombie outbreak, Covid-19 is a virus that spells out sorrow, poverty, and agony. It’s the worst thing you can ever have because you know for a fact that as long as you’re not cured, death is latched onto you and can hop onto your loved one’s back any time. And I meant that literally.

Over the past year, most have lost someone dear to them. We had to say our goodbyes distantly, we had to cry in isolation, and we had to train our mind and body to come out stronger and healthier so others may live.  

It’s my ninth day in quarantine and I’m one of those lucky individuals who got affected only with mild symptoms and is on my way to recovery. And as of writing, my parents and my youngest sister are waiting for their swab result. And I’m praying that they will remain unaffected by the virus.

Honestly, I thought I’ll have an epic realization or a vivid journaling adventure while I’m fighting off this sickness. There is none. Because over the past days, all I have ever thought was to live better, survive with grace and love and hug more my family and the people who are important to me. I thought I would be writing the things that I wanted to do when I get better and can come out again. Well, I’ll be lying if I say I didn’t think of that. For a moment, sure, I did. I wanted to go here, to eat this, be like this, say this to someone but scratch that. I now firmly know that life is uncertain and so you have to cease the day. Eminem said it himself, “You only got one shot.” And so all I was thinking was to live each day genuinely by being good, doing good, feeling good, saying good things, and meaning it and most especially, praying to God with all my heart and leaving everything to His will.

Before I got the virus, I was so anxious about my future plans, so insecure of how people see me, and so pressured that I felt I haven’t gotten anywhere from my career and my goals. And I always thought that I wasn’t enough. I thought people just see me as the funny girl. And that’s it. They will not take me seriously. I even thought of changing how I present myself to other people. I was self-sabotaging. I saw myself comparing and building a false confidence. But when I broke the news to my closest friends that I got Covid and others eventually learned about it, I danced to the fact that I was their funny girl. The outpour of support, of love, the sadness and worry they felt when they knew I was infected, they can’t accept that their funniest girl was sick. And I did not realize how important my presence was to them until I read elongated, “Noooooo!” Get well soooooon!” “Gusto mo ba ng Mcdoooo?”. I was sick but I was happy because they kept on saying that they needed their funny girl to get better soon. The term was “need”. I was needed.  You see, I was so consumed with the thought that I must be the girl who got it all together or the girl who’s good at everything, or the girl who’s liked by everybody.  I did not know I was more than that because I’m the funny one, and more. I cried. I did not know I was important, that I was valued. All I saw was that I was the only one who is giving. And that for the longest time, I have been receiving more than what I have asked for. I was loved. Now, I know.

There’s my teammates who are doing their best to give me the rest that I needed, our partner agencies who are extending their help by giving our brand extra features and refraining from messaging me on Viber (that’s such a relief if you know what I mean), my mom and rest of the fam who are always communicating with  me via messenger and Whatsapp and are sending me lots of gifs, there’s my work husband  who has never made me feel that I was alone and lacking and is always making me laugh, my friends in college, from previous work and other sweet individuals,  who are sending me encouraging messages, photos of cute guys or funny TikTok videos so I will feel better; the character has been switched. They have become the funny ones to cheer on the sick funny girl.  How can you even count the love from these gestures? I can’t. You just take it all, keep it and hope that soon you’ll be able to give it back, to return all the love and care you’ve received.

So while I’m on my way to recovery, I think it’s high time to process my thoughts, to sit in with my feelings, to find my pace, to give out love and thanksgiving, and rest in the thought that there are people who are waiting for me.

Let me end it by saying, I have the virus. And I’m happy I have it.

[beeyoungka]

God can restore your Lost Years

Money can be restored. Property can be restored—broken-down cars, stripped painting, old houses. Relationships can be restored. But one thing that can never be restored is time. Time flies and it does not return. Years pass and we never get them back.

Yet God promises the impossible: “I will restore the years that the locust has eaten” (Joel 2:25). The immediate meaning of this promise is clear. God’s people had suffered the complete destruction of their entire harvest through swarms of locusts that marched like an insect army through the fields, destroying the crops, multiplying their number as they went.

For four consecutive years, the harvest was completely wiped out. God’s people were brought to their knees in more ways than one. But “the Lord became jealous for his land and had pity on his people.” God said, “Behold I am sending to you grain, wine and oil, and you will be satisfied (Joel 2:18-19).

In the coming years, God said, their fields would yield an abundance that would make up for what had been lost: “The threshing floor shall be full of grain; the vats shall overflow with wine and oil. . . . You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied” (Joel 2:24, 26).

This wonderful promise for those people meant that years of abundant harvests would follow the years of desolation brought about by the locusts.

But God has also put this promise in the Bible for us today.

Lost Years of Our Lives

What do “lost years” look like for us? Lost years (or locust years) are years that you can’t get back, and they come in many varieties.

Lost years are fruitless years. A lot of hard work was done in the years the locusts had eaten. After everything was destroyed, the people must have thought, All this work and what do I have to show for it? Some of you know this pain in the world of business—a failed venture, a bad investment, a misguided policy, and all the effort that you put in day-by-day, month-by-month, year-by-year led only to massive disappointment. You think, What has come of all my time and all my effort?

Lost years are painful years. I’m thinking of those who have lost a loved one. You had plans for the future, but now you fear the coming years may be empty. I’m thinking also of those who live with illness in the body or the mind. You assumed that you would always be able to do what you used to do. You have to find a way to live with the disappointment that you cannot.

Lost years are selfish years. Here’s a story that’s been repeated thousands of times. There’s a person (let’s call him Jim) who made a commitment to Christ, but it didn’t run deep. Faith in Jesus was a slice of the big pie of his busy life, filled with all the things that Jim wanted to pursue. Then one day, God gets hold of Jim. He is spiritually awakened. He says to himself, What in the world have I been doing? There’s no substance in my life. I really want it to count for Christ. I want to live in the power of the Spirit. I want to make a difference in the world, but the locusts have eaten half my life! I’ve wasted my years on myself.

Lost years are loveless years. A division comes to a family, alienating loved ones. Children grow up, and those years cannot be recovered. A marriage quietly endures in which love has been burning low for many years. You see a couple who are really in love, and you say, “I wish I could be loved like that.” Or you have not yet met the person you would like to meet. It feels like the years are moving on. You can never get them back. The locusts have eaten them.

Lost years are rebellious years. Perhaps you grew up with many blessings, but in your heart you wanted to rebel. You didn’t fully understand this urge, but you gave yourself to it. Instead of bringing you pleasure, rebellion brought you pain. Now you look back on those years with regret, the years that the locusts have eaten.

Lost years are misdirected years. The path you chose in your career or at college was a dead end. You just didn’t fit. Often in your mind, and sometimes in your conversation, you say, “How did I end up here? If only. . . . If only I had made that move. . . . If only I had taken that opportunity. . . . If only I had chosen a different path.” But the moment has passed. It’s gone. You can’t go back to it. You’re left with locust years.

Lost years are Christ-less years. All Christ-less years are locust years. This point is worth thinking about if you have not yet made a commitment to Christ. Ask anyone who came to faith in Christ later in life, and they will tell you that they wish they’d come to Christ sooner than they did: “How much foolishness I would have avoided. How much more good might have been done through my life.”

How God Restores Lost Years

Take heart! There is hope, because God can restore your lost, locust years. He does so in three ways.

God can restore lost years by deepening your communion with Christ. “You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel, and that I am the Lord your God” (Joel 2:27). These people, who have endured so much, enjoy a communion with the Lord that is far greater than anything they had ever known before in their religious lives. Christ can restore lost years by deepening your fellowship with him.

Why not ask him for this? Tell him, “Lord, I have spent too many years without you, too many years at a distance from you. Fill my heart with love and gratitude for Christ. Let the loss of these years make my love for Christ greater than it would ever have been. Restore to me the years the locusts have eaten. “

God can restore lost years by multiplying your fruitfulness. The harvests for these people had been wiped out for four years, but God restored the years that the locusts had eaten by giving bumper harvests.

This provision makes me think about the parable where Jesus spoke about a harvest that could be 30-, 60-, or 100-fold. There’s a huge difference between these three harvests. Three years at 100-fold is as much fruit as a decade at 30-fold.

Why not ask him for this? “Lord, the locusts have eaten too many years of our lives. You have called us as your disciples to bear fruit that will last. Too many fruitless years have passed. Now Lord, we ask of you, give us some years now in which more lasting fruit will be born than in all of our years of small harvests.”

God can restore lost years by bringing long-term gain from short-term loss. The effect of these great trials in your life will be that “the tested genuineness of your faith . . . may result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:7). The praise, glory, and honor go to Christ because his power guarded you and kept you through the hardest years of your life.

Thinking about “years that the locust has eaten,” years that have been taken, I think of something Isaiah said about our Lord Jesus: “He was cut off out of the land of the living” (Isaiah 53:8).

Here was the Lord Jesus in the prime of life. He was three years into his ministry at 33 years old. You would think that a man launching a new enterprise at the age of 33 has everything in front of him. But Isaiah says, “He was cut off.” He was cut off because he came under the judgment of God, not for his own sins—because he had none—but for ours.

Our sins, our grief, our sorrows, were laid on him. Our judgment fell on him. Our locusts swarmed all over him. The life of God’s tender shoot was “cut off.” Then, on the third day, the Son of God rose in the power of an eternal life. He offers himself to you, and he says what no one else can ever say: “I will restore the years that the locusts have eaten.”

Source: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/god-can-restor-your-lost-years/

[beeyoungka]

Ang Unang Iyak ng Ulap

Minsan tinanong ng ulap ang hangin, “Itataboy mo ba ako kung haharangan ko ang araw?”

 Huminto sa pag-ihip ang hangin at marahan nitong sinabi, “Hangga’t nais mong manatili sa iyong kinalalagyan, hindi tayo aalis.”

 Hindi malaman ang kahulugan sa nakuhang sagot, lumingon ang ulap sa araw, “Magagalit ka ba kapag tinakpan ko ang iyong sinag?”

 Tumawa ang araw at ang mga sinag nito’y dumaan sa katawan ng ulap na nagbigay aliwalas sa lupa. Ngumiti ang ulap. Banayad na humikbi ang hangin.

 Nang makatulog, umihip ang hangin at tinangay nito ang ulap na mainit init pa mula sa pagkakayakap ng araw.

 Lumakas ang hangin, lumaki ang ulap, nawala ang araw.  

 Nagtakbuhan ng parang langgam ang mga tao sa lupa at mula sa itaas, ang malungkot na ulap ay nagbuhos ng luha. Sinabi ng ulap, “Tinakpan ko siya ngunit niyakap niya ako.”

 Huminto sa pag-ihip ang hangin at marahan nitong sinabi, “Hangga’t nais mong manatili sa iyong kinalalagyan, hindi tayo aalis.”

[beeyoungka]

Don’t Sleep For Too Long

“What’s your dream?” A question that was often asked to us when we were kids. Funny how we will always answer back with so much pride and enthusiasm. It’s as if those dreams were like candies that can be easily bought from the candy store or a backpack that can be easily carried on one’s back. Then as we grow older, the number of people who asks that question gradually decreases. “Adulting” some would say. And when faced with reality, somewhere along the line, that dream seems to be out of reach…and in the worst case, forgotten. But come to think of it,  every single day a dream is coming true because a person has decided to get up from his bed and work hard to make it into a reality. But what made him go out with this decision? Maybe, just maybe…before that person slept that night someone asked him what his dream is.

“What’s your dream?” I hope this question will save you from sleeping for too long.

[beeyoungka]

Why She Hates the Wind

It was the wind’s hand that opened up doors of hope but slammed her with heartbreaking realities,

It was the wind’s lips that kissed her good night but whispered her broken promises,

It was the wind’s smell that  gave her a rich aroma of life but poisoned her with sweet delusions,

It was the wind who hears her cry but never listens to her fears,

It was always the fault of the wind…

Because it was only the wind who sees her, when she was in so much pain.

[beeyoungka]

There’s this voice trapped on the other side,

Make the numbers glide and hear what’s inside.

Three is to cheek, two is to lips

Five is to senses and eight counts to a beat.

Set him free, hear his plea

Dial it quick, say hello with a swift

Encode your words, decode his emotions.

Because the wheels might be rotated and the voice might never sing  his “Forever” 

this photo was taken by me last February 2, 2014 at the Burgos National Museum

[beeyoungka]

Berde

Berde ang kulay ng kanyang balat...

Hinog, sariwa, matingkad sa sinag ng araw.

Berde ang laman ng kanyang utak...

Maalindog, makurba, at mapaglaro tulad ng patay sindi na ilaw.

Berde ang tibok ng kanyang puso...

Mapaghintay, matiisin, bumubukadkad tulad ng mga bulaklak sa tagsibol.

Berde ang kanyang tanging kulay.

[beeyoungka]

Darknesss...it was the first thing I saw -Jack Frost

[beeyoungka]

Alaala ng Alak

NOTE TO READERS: Ang isang dakilang tao ay madalas nasusulat sa mga libro, searchable sa google or yahoo engines, madalas na nababanggit ang pangalan ng mga kilalang personalidad o kahit ng mga normal na tao sa paligid. I believe I saw his name once when I was helping a friend in writing his essay in his liturgy class. Indeed, he was a great man. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't able to have a personal encounter with him. I got to know his story from an Agustinian seminarian, Kuya Choobie. He was sending message to all his FB friends to pray for the repose of the soul of his priest-friend. The he told me that his first lesson with this man was how to drink wine with class. Dahil na rin sa dami ng ginagawa sa trabaho and yes, sa palihim na pag-e-fb, hindi ko na nagawang magtanong pa ng mga detalye sa kanyang real-life experience ngunit sa di malamang rason, marahil sa pagnanais ng aking mga kamay na magsayaw at sa pagkadama din ng kalungkutang ng aking puso, naipangako ko sa kanya na gagawan ko ng istorya ang matanda base sa naikwento niya at sa mga nababasa kong mensahe ng pagmamahal sa fb ng mga kaibigan kong pari, madre at seminarista. To Fr. Chupungco, OSB,  I wish to give you this in person but since this life wouldn't permit me any longer, I hope my words will find their way up in heaven. We will miss you.

"You have to put class and grace in everything that you do...even when drinking water."

Thick pair of eyeglasses, white hair and sometimes a shaking hand…ganyan  makita ni Chesco ang maestro sa kanyang harapan.

Unang beses na makita niya kung papaanong magturo ang kaibigang matanda. Parang lahat ng mga pangungusap na lumalabas sa kanyang bibig ay musikang dumadaloy sa mga tainga ng kanyang mga estudyante na siya namang umaagos patungo sa puso't isipan ng mga ito. Natatawa nga si Chesco sa mga katabi, lahat kasi ay nakanganga at nakatulala… parang lahat sila ay manghang-mangha sa nakikita’t naririnig. Naisip niya tuloy na mabilis na tumakbo mula sa harap hanggang sa likod ng kwarto para isa isahing isara ang mga bibig na nakabuka na animo'y mga batang naghihintay na masubuan ng ostia. Napangiti ang binata sa takbo ng kanyang imahinasyon. Tamang tama naman na nahuli ng paring propesor ang pagngiti ng saling ketket sa kanyang klase.

“Mr. Agustin, can you tell us how to drink wine with class?”

“Ho?”

At nabaling ang buong atensyon ng klase sa bagong saltang binata sa kwarto.

Sa tuwing naaalala ni Chesco ang kaganapang ito sa kanyang buhay, automatic na huhulma ng pabaliktad na arko ang kanyang mga labi at sasayaw ang kanyang mga daliri sa keypad ng kanyang telepono upang kamustahin ang kaibigang pari na nasa Bukidnon. Ilang taon na rin silang hindi nagkikita simula ng maassign ang kaibigan sa malayong lugar at siya naman ay nagsimula nang pumasok ng Theology. Karamihan sa mga seminarista, “pads” ang tawag sa mga kaclose nilang pari. Pero pagdating kay Fr. Anselm, “idol” ang bansag ng halos lahat dito, mapa-seminarista, madre, lay people o maski kapwa pari. Papaano ba namang hindi siya magiging “Idol” ng lahat  e this man is considered to be the Father of all Filipino Liturgists. Sa dami ng kanyang achievements sa buhay, lalo na sa kontribusyon niya sa simbahang Katolika, halos lahat ay maiinspire at magaaspire na maging gaya niya. At kapag enrollment, nag-uunahan ang mga estudyante sa pagsingit ng kanilang mga pangalan sa listahan ng klase sa liturgy ni Fr. Anselm. Isa din ito sa mga paboritong eksena ni Chesco. Nakakatuwang isipin kung papaanong maimpluwensyahan ng isang propesor ang prospektibo ng kanyang mga estudyante sa pag-aaral ng liturhiya at lalong higt sa pagsasakatuparan ng salita ng Diyos sa kanilang mga buhay. Ilang buwan na lang din ang bibilangin at matutupad na ang pangarap ni Chesco na legal na umupo sa klase ng maestro at makinig sa mga turo nito.

January 9, 2013

FB NEWSFEED

May God embrace your soul in His loving arms...good bye Fr. Anselm –Sr. Maria

We will miss you idol! –Fray Albert

You were perfectly fine when I saw you last Sunday. May eternal light shine upon you. Rest in peace idol. We love you. –Anjothegreat

Halos sumabog ang puso ni Chesco nang makita ang hatid na balita ng Facebook.

“Anong nangyari? Bakit ganito ang nababasa ko?”

Isang pamilyar na boses ang biglang kumanta sa kanyang isipan, “How do you drink wine with class?” Paulit ulit ang kanta na wari mo’y isang sirang plaka. Bawat salita ay parang bala na bumubutas sa kanyang puso. Bawat nota ay parang sibuyas na humihiwa sa kanyang mga mata. Nabasa ng mga luha ang kanyang touchscreen na telepono ngunit hindi niya ito alintana, wala siyang ibang hinahangad kung hindi marinig ng live ang kanta na humaharana sa kanyang isip. Gusto niyang paniwalaan na hindi totoo ang balita. Ilang beses munang lumabas sa screen ng kanyang telepono ang “Radio path unavailable” hanggang sa maya maya pa’y nagring ito at sinagot ng kabilang linya.

“IDOL!”, sigaw ng nagugulumihan na si Chesco. Walang nagsalita.

”Pads..Idol…”

Isang malalim na paghinga ang kanyang narinig. Hinga ng isang taong may kung anong kalungkutan ang pumipigil para siya ay magsalita.

“Hijo…kaano ano ka ni Fr. Anselm?”

“Nasaan po si Fr. Anselm? Seminarista po ako at kaibigan ko po siya at magiging prof ko po siya sa pasukan. Pwede po bang makausap si Fr. Anselm?”

“I see. Ako si Fr. Rap. Anselm is not here.”

“E nasaan po Fr.?”

Katahimikan.

“Fr. Anselm had a heart attack this morning. He was found dead in his room.”

Tooot toooot toooot toooot…

“How do you drink your wine with class?”

Parang tubig sa isang sirang tubo ng nawasa ang daloy ng mga luha ni Chesco. Totoo ang balita. Oo nga naman, sinong tao ang nasa matinong pag-iisip ang magpopost ng mga goodbye messages nila para sa isang pari na minamahal ng lahat? Kinuha niya sa kanyang cabinet ang isang teal shade na libro…sa bawat bukas niya ng pahina nito, mga patak ng luha ang bumabagsak dito. Kahit kaibigan niya ang matandang pari, nais niya sanang magpalagay ng pirma nito sa kanyang libro.

Wala ng semester of liturgical studies with Fr. Anselm para kay Chesco at sa mga iba pang nagenroll ng maaga para makuha ang slot sa subject ng batikang propesor. Oras, araw, buwan o maaring taon ang bubunuin bago tuluyang maalis ang kalungkutan sa kanyang puso. Alam niyang ganoon din ang nararamdaman ng maraming taong nagmamahal sa matandang propesor.

Sa lungkot na bumabalot sa kanyang buong puso’t katauhan, nais niyang muling ulit ulitin ang mumunting alaala na labis niyang pinahahalagahan..

“Mr. Agustin, can you tell us how to drink wine with class?”

(Photo courtesy of Sem. Choobie of Order of St. Augustine)

[beeyoungka]

Astroboy

Sabi nila, God answers our prayers in three ways. YES and your wish will be granted immediately. NO because it is not for you to have. And WAIT because He has something great in mind. Wait ang madalas na makuhang sagot ni Ayen mula sa kanya. Imposible man at labis na hindi kapani-paniwala ngunit alam na alam ni Ayen kung papaano siya sagutin ng Diyos. Minsan nga iniisip niya na kaparehas niya ng wavelength kung magisip ang Ama kaya ni minsa’y di niya nagawang magtampo dito.

Araw ng linggo, Epiphany sa kalendaryo ng simbahan. Nagpasya si Ayen na tumambay sa dating tagpuan. Walang pinagbago ang lugar….nagkalat na tuyong dahan sa daan, plastik ng kropek, toothpick na ginamit na pantusok ng siomai, naglalakihang mga antic sa puno ng acacia, at maiingay na pulo pulong grupo ng teenagers sa mahahabang batong upuan. Swerte naman na walang nagtangkang umupo sa trono niya. Naglakad ng parang reyna at umupo gaya ng isang prinsesa, maya maya pa’y may kung anong musika ang umihip sa paligid. Ipinikit niya ang kanyang mga mata at nilanghap ang hangin. Naramdaman niya ang paghalik ng malamig na di nakikitang bagay sa kanyang pisngi at ang malungkot na yakap nito sa kanyang katawan. “Lord, ngayon lang. Isang beses lang,” taimtim na dasal ni Ayen. Ilang minuto pa ang lumipas at nagulat ang wari mo’y nagmemeditate na dalaga sa lakas ng tawanan ng kung sinong mga nilalang. Pagdilat ng kanyang mga mata, tagus tagusan niyang nakita sa likod ng apat na matatabang babaeng na nagtatawanan ang taong hiniling niyang makita sa mama sa itaas. Nanigas ang kanyang mga binti, napipi ang kanyang bibig at walang kurap na tumutok ang kanyang mga mata.Walang alintanang naglalakad ang lalaking kanyang inaasam na makita. Suot ang paborito niyang pulang t-shirt, masaya ito at maindayog na naglalakad. Hindi napigilan ng mumunting mga butil ng tubig na muling kumawala sa kanyang mga mata. Sa unang pagkakataon pagkalipas ng ilang daang araw, nakita niya si Astroboy. Walang pinagbago. Gusto niya itong tawagin at kamustahin, gusto niya itong batiin at yakapin at sabihin na pinapatawad na niya ito ngunit karuwagan ang pumangibabaw sa kanya. Alam niyang sa oras na linguni siya nito, ibang mata at ngiti ang sasalubong sa kanya. Ibang tao na ang kanyang makakaharap.

Nataos ang misa na namumugto ang kanyang mga mata. Ngayon lang siya umiyak nang masaya. Answered prayer. Ang itinuturing ni Ayen na milagrosang araw ay natapos na ang tanging tumatakbo sa kanyang puso’t isip ay, “Masaya ako na makita ka mahal. Masayang masaya ako na makita kang masaya. Ako naman.”

[beeyoungka]

Segundo

Segundo lang ang pagitan ng paglabas-masok ng hangin sa ating ilong. Segundo lang ang pagitan ng pagdikit ng itaas at ibabang labi sa twing tayo ay magsasalita. Segundo lang din ang pagitan ng bawat pagkurap ng ating mga mata. At madalas sa hindi, segundo lang din ang pagitan ng pagtawa at pagluha ng isang taong nagmamahal.

Ang segundo kapag naipon nagiging minuto na pag naipon ay nagiging oras na pag naipon ay nagiging araw na pag naipon ay nagiging linggo na magiging buwan na magiging taon at kung hindi mamalasin...magiging walang hanggan.

Sa kaso ko, hindi natapos ang isang segundo.

[beeyoungka]

Slide ni Kamatayan (unfinished story)

"Naaaaaay!!!! Tignan mo ako! Ang saraaaaaaaaaaaaaaap magslide!!!! WOOOOOOH!", ilang araw nang nagigising si Sola sa panaginip na mabilis siyang dumadausdos pababa sa isang higanteng slide. Kung sa ibang tao bangungot ang mga ganitong eksena sa mundo ng panaginip, para kay Sola isa itong pangarap.

Mabilis na tumayo sa hinihigaan ang patpatin na batang babae. Pinagpag ang manipis na kumot, pinagsagupa sa untog ang dalawang katyang unan at inilapag sa may bintana upang mabilad sa araw, pinakamainam na gawin pantanggal ng anggud na amoy mula sa pinaghalong laway at minsa'y tulok.

Handa na ang almusal. Sinangag, dalawang tuyo, at kalahating itlog na maalat, pagsasaluhan ng anim na ulo. Ordinaryong araw ito para sa pamilya ni Sola. Ang �� padre de pamilya na kung tawagin sa kanilang sitio ay Manong Chuck dahil tga 'chuck chuck siya ng puno' ay nauna na sa bundok. Literal na Big day ni Manong Chuck ngayon dahil ubod ng laking puno ng mahogany ang kanyang patutumbahin. Si Aling Ibyang ang araw araw na umaasikaso at humaharap sa kanyang mga anak.

"Nay, kelan tayo pupunta sa bayan? May bago daw kasing patayong slide si gob." tanong ni Sola

"Kapag maagaang nakauwi ang ama nyo sa Sabado, pupunta tayo dung lahat."malumanay na sabi ni Aling Ibyan.

"AYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS!" sabay sabay na sigaw ng magkakapatid

[beeyoungka]

The Blue Balloon

Sa harap ng simbahan, sa mga parke tulad ng Luneta, zoos at mall lang ako madalas makakita ng mga lobo. During the 90’s, ang usong design ng lobo e Power Rangers, malaking ulo ni Goku, Hello Kitty o kaya naman si Eugene ng Ghost fighter. Well, those characters still apply to balloon designs today, nagkaroon nga lang ng additions tulad nila Dora, Doraemon at Pikachu. But nothing beats the classic round balloons. Red, yellow, green, white, orange, blue…ang ganda nilang tignan pagsama sama. These things represent our childhood days…those days na free ang lahat ng babae na makipaglaro ng patintero at tumbang preso na walang bra at walang ayos ang buhok…mga araw na ang mga kalaro mong lalaki, pag napikon, kukuha ng lapis at sasaksakin ka na lang sa braso o di kaya’s sa tuhod ng walang pasabi. Malayang nililipad ng hangin..malayang sumasayaw sa harap ng maraming tao..malayang kumakaway at humihiling sa mama sa itaas…yan ang dahilan kung bakit gusting gusto ko ng lobo. But why blue? Simple, it’s because blue is my favorite color.

Date was September 9. Araw na napatunayan ni Pia that there are no such things as promises and forever. Parang pelikula lang sa sine ang lahat. You were thrilled and excited when you saw the trailer of the movie, hinintay ang showing, pumila ng mahaba, pumili ng pinakamaganda at komportableng upuan, ngumuya ng popcorn, nanuod…namangha, tumawa, umiyak, nagalit, kinilig, nanaginip, at pagkatapos ng dalawang oras, lumabas ng sinehan, umuwi sa bahay, nagkwento sa mga kapatid tungkol sa mga kapanapanabik na eksena sa pelikula, binalita sa fb, twitter at nagtext sa mga kaibigan, natulog, pumasok sa trabaho kinabukasan, nagkwento muli at nirekomenda at ipinagyabang sa mga ka-opisina at pagkatapos ng dalawang lingo…nalimutan na ang pelikula. Ganoon natapos ang istorya nila Pia at Jacob.

Pasado alas nuebe na, hindi pa rin dumarating si Jacob sa tagpuan. Wala ding text mula sa kanya. Tahimik lang si Pia sa kinauupuan, giniginaw sa lakas ng aircon sa McDo. Ang totoo, mas giniginaw siya emotionally kesa physically. Hindi niya alam kung paano haharapin ang kasintahan. Sasampalin niya ba ito pag sinabi na niya na may iba na siya? Iiyak sa harapan niya at magmamakaawa na wag siyang iwan? Magwawala sa harap ng maraming tao at ipagsisigawan na niloko siya nito? Wala siyang direksyon ng mga panahon na ‘yon. Isa lang ang gusto niya, ang makita si Jacob. Nagpalit na naman ng set ng tao sa table sa kanyang likuran. Alas onse na pala..tatlong oras na siyang naghihintay. Makalipas ang tatlumpung minuto, dumating nang nakangiti si Jacob. Normal na normal ang itsura at postura, hindi alintana ang bigat ng loob ng babaeng “mahal” niya. Tingin. Kurap. Ngiti. Pauli ulit itong ginawa nila Pia at Jacob. Pareho silang nangangapa, hindi malaman kung paanong uumpisahan ang usapan.

Umihip ang hangin na may kasamang alikabok..dalawang kamay na lang ang pumoprotekta sa asul na bilog.

“Anong nangyayari?” panimula ni Pia

Walang nakuhang sagot si Pia sa kaharap. Gusto na niyang umiyak ngunit pinuwersa niya ang kanyang sarili na pigilan ang mumunting tubig na nais sumirit sa gilid ng kanyang mga mata. Ibubuka na muli ni Pia ang kanyang bibig para ulitin ang tanong ngunit nagsimula ng magsalita si Jacob.

“Break na tayo.”

Sumabog ang bulkan sa Mars, nagbungguan ang mga sasakyan sa Espanya, lumakas ang hangin, bumilis ang ikot ng kamay ng orasan..BOOM! Tinamaan ng bomba ang pinakapulang laman loob ni Pia…wasak na wasak ang kanyang puso sa narinig.

“Bakit Jac? Meron bang iba?”

“Wala. Napepressure ako. Gusto kong mag.grow. Kapag kaya na kitang panindigan at mahalin ng buo, babalikan kita. You’re a great person..this is the best love I’ve ever felt in my entire life. And it kills me whenever I see you cry. You were always there for me..but I was never there for you.”

“Pia…it’s not you. It’s me. I’m sorry.”

Umihip ng ubod ng lakas ang hangin..kinailangang takpan niya ang kanyang mata. Nawala ang asul na bilog.

Hindi na nais pang tandaan ni Pia ang mga sumunod na nangyari. After ng break up, saka niya nalaman ang lahat. If Jacob was pressured, bakit meron kagad siyang iba? Bakit may mahal na siya? Si Carol. Akala ni Pia…akala ng lahat babalikan siya ni Jacob. Wala ng babalik pa. Hindi pa man tapos ang relasyon ng dalawa, pinipilit pa man niayng ayusin ang sa tingin niyang sira….Jacob has already starting his life with someone else. For Pia, she was a victim of two-timing, of disrespect, of dishonesty ..lahat na ata ng pwedeng gawin na masama ng isang kasintahan feeling ni Pia, ginawa sa kanya. She was always melancholic. She was a walking dead. Parang kinuha lahat ng buhay na meron siya. Ang mga taong mabubuti, sila ang madali at madalas na sinasaktan. Tatlong buwan na ang nakakalipas simula nang maghiwalay sila ng pinakauna niyang kasintahan. He never cared for her. Tatlong buwan na pero masakit pa rin…may kirot..at sa twing naaalala niya ang lahat, parang pauulit ulit din siyang nililibing sa ilalim ng lupa ng buhay.

Normal na umiihip ang hangin. Mainit. Mabigat. Nasabit ang asul na bilog sa kawad ng kuryente. Any moment alam niyang puputok ito. Mawawala ang lobo at magkakaroon ng sunog.

“Alam mo ba kung bakit ko gusto si Mr. Carl? Kung bakit ko gusto ang Up?”

Isang blankong mukha ang sumagot sa kanya.

“Do you know why Carol loves balloons?”

Dalawang magkasunod na tango ang natanggap niya sa kausap.

Nanginig ang mga laman ni Pia, pahinto hinto ang tibok ng puso, patuloy ang pagdaloy ng luha sa kanyang mga pisngi at garalgal niyang sinabi…. “Don’t hurt her. Don’t leave her. Love her with all your heart…and miss her when she’s not there.”

Naalala niya lahat..lahat lahat..kung susumahin, 25 percent lang siguro ang happy memories and the rest puro sad memories na ang naaalala niya kay Jacob. Nasa parke siya malapit sa kanila at malapit sa kanyang inuupuan ay mga panindang lobo. Walang bilog na tindang lobo ang ale, halos lahat Dora at Doraemon. Gusto niya ng blue balloon. Feeling ni Pia, siya si Ellie ng Up. Ang pinagkaiba nila, si Ellie mahal na mahal ni Mr. Fredricksen.

Tumingin sa langit si Pia, gusto niyang makakita ng something blue. Pumukit, dinama ang maalinsangan na hangin, huminga ng malalim at muling nagpakawala ng tubig sa kanyang mga mata. Hindi niya alintana ang mga batang tumitingin o mga magkasintahan na napapalingon sa kanyang direksyon. Blue. Blue means calmness..blue means peace and serenity…pero pinaka-applicable sa kanya ngayon ang Blue bilang sadness.

“I really thought you’ll put smile on my blue balloon. Magkasama natin hinawakan ang kanyang tali. Sabay tayong tumawa habang malandi siyang isinasayaw ng hangin. Sabay tayong umiyak nang tangayin siya ng kanyang kapareha. Sabay tayong tumalon sa tuwa nang siya ay ating makita. Ngunit isang araw, sa di inaasahang pagkakataon, nakakita ka ng mas maindayog na lobo. Nahalina ka sa kulay na pula at sinundan mo ito. Tinakpan ko ang aking mga mata para hindi ko Makita ang iyong unti unting pglayo. Pinilit kong isayaw ang asul na lobo hanggang sa nabutas ito at bumaba ang kanyang paglipad. Ngayon, sa parkeng punung puno ng mga lobong may masasayang kulay…isang tao ang nakatingin sa lupa at naglalakad magisa hawak ang asul na bilog. Aakyat ako sa puno, itaas ko ng pagkataas taas ang asul na lobo…araw araw uupo ako sa tuktok at mag.aabang…kung saka sakaling mapalingon ka sa aking direksyon at makita mo ang sumasayaw kong lobo..sundan mo..tumakbo ka ng mabilis at hanapin mo ako sa itaas ng puno. Pero sasabihin ko sayo..dalawang bagay ang kailangan mong asahan pag silip mo sa itaas. Maaring makikita mo ako na hawak ang lobo o….isang asul na lobo lang ang makikita mo na nakatali sa sanga ng puno.”

Umihip muli ang hangin. Nilipad ang asul na bilog pabalik sa kanyang mga kamay, kung papaanong nangyari iyon..hindi niya rin alam. May kusa. Maliit. Madumi. Ibinuhol niya ang puting sinulid sa kanyang kanang kamay at siya’y nagsimulang lumakad. Tumingin sa itaas at bahagyang napangiti sa nakita. Marami na palang lobo sa langit. Iba’t ibang kulay pero wala ni isa man ang asul. Marami na ang bumitiw at binitawan. Kaya ko pa. 

[beeyoungka]

Long ago, before writing, you'd send someone a stone that suited the way you were feeling. From its weight and touch, they'd know how you felt. From a smooth stone they might get that you were happy, or from a rough one that you were worried about them. -Daigo Kobayashi, The Departure