Chatbox

When was the last time you smiled?

When was the last time you laughed?

When was the last time you felt something was definitely right?

It was late year of the 2000s when I met this person just because I asked various favors from my friend to introduce me. He had nice wavy hair, good set of teeth with braces, well-framed face, and pleasing eyes. He was one word: handsome. The only drawback is he was just as tall as I am. A lot of drama were played just to tease fate that I'd like us to meet. 

And we did meet and his name was something I will never forget.

I asked my friend another set of favors and another set, until I suggested I ran errands for her for a so-called "emergency". To my frustration he did not respond nor even reacted in any way. Then my phone beeped telling me about an incoming message to be read. It was not him but his friend. The frustration just went deeper inside me. On the contrary, I then wore my friendliness and entertained some queries. Unexpectedly, I felt fine- entertained. 

Days turned to weeks. My friend just laughed at me saying that I just didn't hit the target; it slipped to a wrong one. However this "friend" was somebody I did not expect to meet. We almost had almost the same set of likes and dislikes. We talked a variety of things, as the cliche goes, under the sun. Conversation was never plain between us. The exchange of stories was like a wind that never ceased to blow between us. It took awhile until one day I received a message with something like, "...inspiration." Out of curiosity, the means of communication expanded. What happened next was something I will never remove from the box of memories. Roses, a smile, and a name that I held dear.

Unexpectedly, almost everyone knew there was a special connection going between us. Graciously I denied that it was merely friendship, as far as I believed. However, I later found out that the "name" was quite known to some. I felt abashed to my ears but I managed discretely so as not to attract any further attention.

The day came when every friend of ours seemed to accept how I and my friend treated each other in our own special way. I will never forget those three pieces of dark cookies that I wished I never had eaten, or the time when he traced his fingers through my long thin hair, or even the moment he touched my face with both hands just to pull me away from the attention I was giving to other friends. I almost melted but I hid it as proficiently as I could.

These were the moments that you might be smiling as I did. On the other hand, later, I came to realize that I was building something so fragile and as expected, I was shattered to pieces. *

A Tree to Remember

December has always been a favorite month. It is something to look forward every year. Family, food, presents, and of course, the Christmas tree.

I just had this belief that happiness would be magnified at least a hundred times whenever there's this Christmas figure with ornaments and presents underneath it. 

A Picture with Mr Tree

I was a toddler when I first came across a Christmas tree. 

It was the day my sister's god sister brought me along to watch her ballet recital. Like most events, picture taking was done as a memorabilia. And since that was Christmas time, a picture with the Christmas tree that stood near the stage was a famous spot. It stood high with all those little people with red coats, black belts and pointed red hats scattered at different angles. It was big but I felt it was harmless so I allowed myself to be led by the hand and stared at the lens focused towards us.

I vaguely remembered how she danced that day, but maybe, just as most adults would do, her mother, Mama Linda, and probably my Nanay (grandma) instructed me to clap my hands after the performance. She may had danced very well, but all along, my eyes kept on wondering when would we eat.

Branches and Leaves

Being first born, I was close to my Nanay (grandma). She lived in her own home in the city and a week is not complete without her presence. 

She's fond of plants and trinkets. Thus, when it's in season, she did not need any artificial stuff to make herself a Christmas tree or should I say, a Christmas plant. With just a few (but real) leaves, it would always stood perfectly on a table. Being short, it was in favor of my height; I could freely touch the rounded ornaments she put and satisfied myself by how each would respond without being scolded if any got loose (they're made of plastic and thread).

Simple Ornaments

I could still remember the first Christmas tree my Mama bought. It was about 3 or 4 feet tall with 5 parts to be assembled. It was so simple but an improved version of my Nanay's. Nonetheless, anytime during the "ber" months, when she brought out the boxes, I was always excited just because she allowed me (and my sister) to decorate it (get what to expect). Sad as it may be, it only lasted before l entered high school.

Close to Have My Own

Always. I am always drawn to Christmas trees of all sizes: from table top to gargantuan. I always catch myself smiling to Christmas trees of all colors; green, white, yellow and blue.  I always feel a lot of happy emotions just by the thought of decorating it.

I want a big dark green Christmas tree, about 12 feet high. I want it to be decorated in a way that will make each child smile no matter how shy he/she may be. I want it be a presentation, in my own home, for friends to remember about the colors of life. 

I want it, not just pretty but, dazzling. 

I want it, not just catchy but, inspiring.

And I just know. Soon.

photo courtesy of email-junk.com

Let's all have a Merry Christmas! :)

A Story

This is a story. No, this is not a love story nor a story of happy ending. Nonetheless, it was written to save not heart but someone’s pride.

Up in the northern part of the village, there were five friends:  Anton, James, Drew, Phil and Andre.  All five grew up together that second to their families, they feel home just by mere laughing at silly and shallow gags or competing with each other by throwing colored candies in the air for no reason. For years, they experienced lots of emotions that shaped their brotherhood. 

If there’s one thing that could identify the five of them, it could be one word: sauce. Indeed, all of them loved to eat, sauced food a lot! Other people in the village wondered if the sauce made them so identifiable that they bore the name “Throbbers”. It may sound so bizarre, but a lot believed it’s their traits that made girls smile at an extended time frame and made babies chuckle. For one, Anton had slightly oval face which narrows towards the chin. James had a strong, firm nose which gave his face a strong sense of solidity and character. Drew had a well-defined jaw line gives a certain chiseled face making him look incredibly sophisticated. Phil had a pair of dark brown eyes that were so expressive without any doubt. Lastly, Andre had a distinct, well-maintained facial hair that made him look more, hygienic than without it. They were beautiful than handsome, making more throbbing of a lady’s heart, more or less, significant. Two were in a relationship: Anton, for 3 years now, and Drew for 5 years. James was single so is Andre. Phil was in the process of his healing mantra.

On the other end, there’s Alex, a lady with thick-rimmed pair of eyeglasses and with fine, wavy hair resting on her shoulders. She was always out of the house with a book and a pen, if not with her hand; it’s in her back pack. She was not weird either; she’s just independent coming home from another town at around 11 o’clock in the evening. She might not be stunning but she just brushed the idea that a lot of guys find her charming with her shirt-sneakers-jeans clothing type.

She had her own set of beliefs that sometimes, no one understands. In a world full of strangers, she believed that there’s a thin thread that connects everyone and it is the responsibility of every person to expose that thread lest chaos will happen. She rarely smiled, almost always in deep thought about a lot of mundane agenda. She loathed people who say that happiness could not be found in having a good life and that money is like a despot in one’s life. Though these people can’t be blamed, for her, they were just, evil as it may sound, broke.

Two sets of lives, one story.