These articles were dated Dated 31 October to 5 November 2008, I accidentally found a 2-year old notebook last night and saw these compositions I have written when I visited my father.
A Dream—a Journey
Shiver.
Chill.
Coldness is in the air.
As I opened my eyes, I became conscious of my posture, crossed arms inside my jacket with scarf on my neck and hood in my head.
Wait.
I felt the inertia—moving.
Raindrops falling like tears from heaven.
Was it for joy, or sorrow?
When I see the once familiar view of mountains and tobacco plantation, I’m back in reality.
Memories came flooding as the childhood site passing my eyes, unclad my sleepy mind.
Yeah.
Right, I’m on my way to my father, whom I suddenly missed so much.
I just don’t want to admit it. [I just admitted, right?]
Two years ago, I’ve been here—the same scenario, but it seems a distant pass—a history that happened a long, long time ago. Or, maybe, those were just dreams like this one—a dream that soon will pass; leaving just memories and goals, until it too shall fade on my human memory.
Then goes in a cycle, afterwards, time will come, I’ll return on this same scenario again to have another dream of the man I longed more than forever.
I am in a dream—awake, in a dream.
Bonding: Uban-hunt Galore
[ Uban- a bolinao, our local language, word used to refer a white hair.]
In my dream, he asked me to ‘hunt’ for uban—a simple activity, but it made an impact to the dreamer’s heart.
I fear him.
I love him.
Anxiety’s within.
A gap—a wall, I don’t know who built.
Or, was it the fear I felt of him,
or, the neither anger nor disappointment maybe?
Of his stiffness and hard outer wall, I surprisingly penetrate his inner core—of loneliness, nostalgia and love.
I constantly wished his companionship before.
I lost a part of my childhood without him—this is what I’m trying to fix in this dream, but soon will end.
His uban was plenty—the witnesses of his own sacrifices for this stubborn hand that one by one picked them. Hoping as the itch they cause him disappear, the burden of carrying a dreamer in his shoulders will soon end.
Proud Lolo—smiled through the eyes
In my dream, because this is just too good to be true, I showed him our little princess’s pictures—Keziah, my older sister’s daughter—and despite his confessed disappointment to her mother, I saw flickers of joy in his eyes, as if his heart just leaped with pride and care.
“Did you feel the same way almost 21 years ago, seeing that bottle-sized baby in the incubator?” I wanted to ask him, but I knew the answer.
Coffee break in the swing
Sitting in the swing, I felt like a seven year old child listening eagerly to his father’s tales not caring if those are just make-believe fairy tales or realities. Then, I realized how blessed I am to be in this dream even just for a while.
No matter how high the walls,
No matter how hard the outer-layer of your heart,
Love can break to show the real ‘you’ within.
This is just the right stress boaster—to feel once for awhile the pride and security of having a father.
No pictures.
No souvenir.
But a whole spirited person unleashed and new goal to reach:
‘be the pap’s little girl he will be proud of.’
“Thank you Lord!”
Alone—in the Garden
Of the brisk of Bermuda in my bare feet,
The sound of little fountain,
And the unheard bark of dogs in the other side of the garden.
The hanging fruits, and moss-like vines,
And the sound of joy—my own joy;
Of love of puppy, Dobbie,
Of nostalgia in the air—I feel.
The plants with green and red leaves,
The temple-stone,
The rocks reflected in the glass, sliding doors.
The garden—in the garden,
I see the beauty in simplicity.
Awaken—‘tis Over
Like the rain in the summer, I know it’s over—the dream in that land 7-hours away home.
I am back in reality, in the four cornered room of invisible graffiti waiting to be written.
I am thankful enough with the dream I had to wash the stress—to refresh, to mend the broken spirit and recharge with new aspirations and courage to go on.
Here, it is: a bunch of work lain before me. It’s just the start I know. Yet, though the pressure is starting to crawl my once relaxed veins, the excitement begin and the adrenaline awakened as well.
What is there for me in store?
New opportunities to unfold,
new tasks to accomplish, new goals to pursue,
new visions to make happen,
but same God who guides.
I’m more that hopeful to survive this semester [SY 2008-2009] with papa behind and God by my side.
Amen.
[Two years after, I reached the short-term goal I made in that swing. In black robe and hanging white tassel, I climbed the stage to receive the silver-plated medal and maroon lace with my mother. He was just wasn’t there to witness our victory. I honestly wished he was there, too.]
