There is this angst inside of me. I want to keep in silence, but my blood is raging in fire; my thought is screaming in wrath; my heart throbbing with intense vexation.
If I speak, no one spares time to listen. I am longing for someone to talk to. I am longing for somebody whose genuine heart cares to listen to my thoughts, from my heart and soul.
I tried speaking, yet no one understands my language. In my spoken and unspoken words, I dare to express. Yet neither one hears nor feels the vibration of the roaring, of my silent voice.
I can only question… and hoping somehow, somewhere, some kind of unknown being, maybe be able to indulge me with the satisfaction in response to my query.
How do you feel if you’re being ignored?
How does it feel if you are burning candles at both ends, only to find out, no one even cares?
How would you feel if you try the best all you can to perfect your craft, and you’re not being appreciated?
How would you feel when you commit yourself to render service, yet you hear and see nothing but criticism, skepticism and doubt?
How do you feel when you think you don’t have the freedom to create something on your own?
How do you feel when you have a pure intention of loving what you do, and your only reward is the joy and love of what you do, yet someone from out of nowhere, foresee it as rivalry, competition and maybe even worse, a threat?
How would you feel when someone you respected and trust tells you,”You can’t do it?”
If and only if, you fell how I feel… Look straight into my eyes and tell me, “It sucks!”
With all these anguish, affliction, distress… these tribulations boiling inside me.. I realized that nothing in life is worth caring for, but my own life, my own destiny, my own journey.
Only in Nature, can I fully express myself. It is my only refuge… the non-physical and intangible… it understands and listens to me in silence.
It is better for me to reveal my inner grief to the trees, for I know, it engraves my emotions unto its bark, like a mist that will vanish with the whisper of the wind. And even if the wind hears it, it will only soar unto the space and into the space it remains.
I will travel alone in the storm, and I know, I will thrive and survive.
I wish you were here when l was in my lowest and saddest time of my life; I wish you were here to wrap your arms around me, in my moments insecurity;
I wish you were here when I needed someone to talk to; I wish you were here when I long for someone to stroll with, at the park or at the beach or in a shopping mall… or simply having a cup of tea;
I wish you were here to share my story with you, and tell you how am I doing in this strange country ; I wish, and l can only wish you were here in this time of uncertainty when anger, fear and trepidation shrouds me;
“Everything will be okay.” is all l can hear from my friends. Yet nothing compares the unconditional love you gave to me.
I wish you were here so I could speak to you in person how much this love I longed and kept inside me to utter those words, “I Love You.”
I wish and I can only wish, to you see you before the gates of the temple opens up to welcome you; before your shadow vanish into the mist; before sunrise turns to dusk.
I wish you were here so we both could celebrate this special day.
Happy Mother’s Day to the most wonderful woman who gave me light into this world… My Mother.
(AChild’sLonging. COPYRIGHT.2017.All Rights Reserved)
“This photo of you, will travel around the world.”
I was in the Philippines then. These were the words, I recalled roughly four decades ago. I was only ten when my mom asked me to buy some bananas from a nearby *Sari-Sari store, right across where we lived. (*A sari-sari store , or neighborhood variety store, is a convenience store found in the Philippines. The word sari-sari is a Tagalog term meaning “variety”. Such stores form an important economic and social location in a Filipino community. It is present in almost all neighborhoods, sometimes even on every street.” Credit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sari-sari_store )
It was 9:00 o’ clock, one bright sunny Monday morning. I just finished my breakfast, and I was preparing my school bag when my mom said, ” Can you please buy some bananas before you head out for school?”
Without saying any word, I grabbed the money from my mom’s hand and rushed to the door. I was wearing an old slippers and in a hurried pace, with my quick small steps, I ran across the street. I wasn’t paying attention to motorcycles and jeepneys honking, I just crossed without turning my head either left or right. I heard a driver yelling at me but I just continued running. I finally got to the sari sari store, and I got the bananas in my hand.
I was about to cross the street when I heard a deep voice asking me to stop. I turned around, and I saw these two white people. A man and a woman. I think they were couple. The man had a camera and asked me to pose for a picture. I didn’t know what to say, I just looked at them puzzled.
“Don’t be scared, it will be okay. We just want you to pose for us, holding that banana, and I will take a picture of you,” the man said. “This photo of you will travel around the world,” as he went on to tell me. I can’t remember if they spoke to me in English or in my dialect. How come I recalled this dialogue? Anyway.
I tried to ease myself and gave a sweet smile, as I posed for them to capture a photo of me. I heard the snap shot sound of the shutter button. They gave me a hug and said “Thank you, and be careful.” I smiled back at them without saying any word and ran as fast as I could with excitement. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom about what happened. This time, I forgot about school. All I can remember is to tell my mom about the two white couple I met at the sari sari store.
As soon as I entered the doorway, I saw my mom washing dishes in the kitchen sink; and I told my her about my encounter. To her surprise, she immediately told me, “Now, you are travelling around the world, only that your picture goes ahead of you,” then she laughed. I looked at my mom puzzled
I can’t figure out at that time, why my mom laughed. I began to realize as I grew older, she was probably thinking that because we are poor, I can’t have a chance travel. Well, at least, my photo traveled ahead of me… as what my mom said.
Now I realized that, I haven’t really traveled around the world, except that I traveled from the Philippines to the US.
This recollection about my encounter with those two white people, (I can only call them white because I am not sure about their nationality) kept coming back to my memory and I question myself, “What if I will meet them again and they will show me that picture they took of me?”
Right, I want to meet them again. But I don’t know them! Are they still living? I want to see that photo of me holding bananas… I want to meet those couple. Question is… When? How? Where in the world did I travel, by the way?
And oh… one more thing, I kind of see something similar to Sari-sari stores in New York, and they call it, Deli Store 😉
This question, still haunts me… ” Where in the world did I travel?”
“You know I once had a friend. He has a School of Language in Harlem.”
“He was a man who can speak three languages, very smart! He is Black, you know, his name is W.W. Smith.”
I nodded my head while listening to him.
“He asked me one day.” as he continued.
“You speak Spanish?”
“I said, Yes.”
“Why don’t you come to my school and teach Spanish?”
“Then I started teaching in his school and I would come three times a week from 7pm to 9pm from my work. “You know I worked at the American Airlines as a Senior Mechanic.” “I really love to teach and everybody liked me, you know.”
I smiled at him with a nod and, I saw him smiled back with content, yet with a sigh. “I wonder if he is still alive now,” He said.
I suddenly saw a melancholic look on his face, and I interrupted.
“So, you really liked teaching, and everybody likes you. I am sure, you’re an excellent teacher,”I said.
He looked at me with so much confidence and pride, and replied, “Yes, I am.” I taught in that school for almost four years.”How I really liked it, and I made good money.”
“You liked it because you made good money? Is that what it is?” I asked him. He then stared at me like a real teacher with authority and felt of myself as his student. He pointed at me and with his deep voice, he asserts, “You know, it’s not really about the money alone. It’s the LOVE of doing what you do. Money will just follow.”
He looked at me with a smile, reached out his hand on the side table and took a sip of tea, he then leaned back to his chair. He closed his eyes. I quickly made a sketch of him.
I just learned a lesson from the Wise. He is right, and he reminds me of my father. If only he was alive. Sigh.
(It’s Not The Money.Copyright.2017.All rights Reserved)