Too Fast...

...If only I could slow time down, just for a bit.

Today...

...was a good day.

We celebrated with doughnuts, enjoyed the most by Lucia.

Today was a good day. Thank you, Lord.

Other Birthday

Dear August 13, 2012:

Hi. It’s been a while. When I wake up tomorrow, there shall you be.

So. You’re finally here. Sort of. I’ve been waiting for you, anticipating you. Steeling myself for you. So, now you’re here. Almost.

(But you're so here, I can taste you. I've been tasting you the whole day. You taste like bile.)

And I’m stalling by hyper-objectifying the fact that you’re almost here instead of actually confronting how I feel about you coming around again.

(There's a storm now, did you know? How about that.)

Right. Feelings.

Well, I’m glad that you’re finally here. I think I can allow myself to breathe a little more freely once you pass through. As you do, allow me to use this inchoate bravado of mine to stick my tongue out at you.

I’m still here, see. I’m still alive. I didn’t die. For better or for worse, I didn’t die.

(I lived, damn you. I lived.)

I thought I would be more conciliatory, as in: "Let’s bury the hatchet. From henceforth, you shall be like any other day." 

But not yet. Almost. (So almost, I can taste it. It tastes like the air after the rain and unwashed cherries.)

Right now, along with my tongue, I shall show you my wrists. The only marks on them are tattoos that celebrate the fact that I lived. The reasons I do my best to keep doing this whole living thing. (Thanks to you, my body now holds a forever-tapestry of victories.)

And you stand there, silently. Neither friendly nor menacing. You’re just standing there, waiting to be defined by whatever state of healing I may be in. And I hate that you're so cavalier about this whole thing. I've been struggling not to be defined by you and you're just there. So...undefined.

Tell you what, let’s just nod, acknowledge each other’s presence, and let’s try to get on with tomorrow's today, shall we?

What’s that? Yes, thank you. Happy Other Birthday, indeed. Thank you. Coming from you, that means a lot. I appreciate it. (Sincerely.)

Till next year. Perhaps, by then, I shall have been able to define you.

Kindest (kind now, not belligerent) regards,

K

Velcro-Hug

Sometimes, it's painful. Like, physically.

I get numb headaches. I dunno if that makes sense to you, but that's the only way I can describe it. And then things go dark, and I can only focus on one thing at a time. And then for a few minutes, everything will go back to normal—noise, color, everything. And then I get overwhelmed, so I will take in huge gulps of air to still myself. And then when I finally get a grip, the world darkens again.

While things are dark, I check my pulse, just to make sure it isn't another panic attack. Because I'm calm. So what is this?

And then Lucia's squeal pierces through the reverie and I feel myself making the effort to look at her and smile.

And then the tunnel reappears and I feel the darkness Velcro-hug me again.

One Night, Two Conversations

I had to go to the grocery store after work to buy a bag of rice since we were all out. After that, I walked to the drug store right on the fringes of my neighborhood (the smaller drug stores within the neighborhood don't carry my meds). I didn't have enough money to buy the full prescription, so I was grumbling the whole time I had to walk to the drug store. All this effort just to buy two measly pills. 

By "effort", I don't mean the walk. In fact, I don't mind walking and I actually missed walking that far (my daily walk to work lasts all of 4 minutes). What I didn't like was being in the midst of all those people. Ugh. People. 

People bumping into each other, rushing to or from work, paying no heed to proper sidewalk etiquette (I MEAN SERIOUSLY, WHY WALK SIDE BY SIDE WHEN THE SIDEWALK IS CLEARLY WIDE ENOUGH FOR ONLY TWO PEOPLE?!?!), I hated all that. And then, just as I was about to bump into to the umpteenth person, I heard an almost too-familiar semi-scream.

"Ma'am Katz?!?"

There was a time when I would automatically think that this would be a student. Now that I'm older, I've come to expect the exclamation to come from all sorts of people (as I have become old enough to be "Ma'am-ed" and "Miss-ed" more frequently now...loud sigh). 

Anyway.

The guy in front of me was only vaguely familiar. So my brain did the usual process.

1. Is it a guy? Then it could be a student. (Yes.)
2. Is he well-dressed (specifically, is he dressed more office-y than you)? Then it could be a student from my earlier days as a teacher. (Yes.)
3. Does he look familiar? (Yes.)
4. Do you remember his name? (No.)
5. Eep. Do you remember his section? (No.)
6. Gah. Is he still smiling, not noticing that you haven't recognized him yet? (Yes, and I don't know. He could just be the most polite person in the world.)
7. Pant. Still don't remember his name? (No!)
8. Panic. 
9. No, wait. Smile.
10. Say something, stupid. 

"Hi!" I said.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm okay, thanks! How are you?" I asked.

"I'm okay po. I work in this building," he said.

Ugh, I'm so old. "Wow, that's great!" I say.

"Grabe, ma'am! Ang bata ng ichura mo! I thought you were a kid," he said. "Parang nawawalang bata, hahahaha!"

"Oh, haha," I said. I have to make a canned response to that. And practice delivering it with as much spontaneity as possible.

Since people were still walking about us (ugh, I had become 1/2 of the very thing I just ranted about), I said I had to go.

"Sige po, ma'am. Nice to see you po!" he said. 

"Bye! Take care!" I said. 

And then I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the shiny glass walls of the building in front of me and I saw what he saw. I was wearing a schoolmarm-ish dress, purple tights, my floral DMs, and a floral backpack. My hair had just about given up being straight and had started to curl (as it is wont to do in the most asymmetrical way which vexes me to no end). I looked like a lost, exhausted child.

I walked towards home and I finally reached the part of my neighborhood that didn't have as many people walking about. I looked up and actually saw a star. Like a freaking, shining star. And I looked up at the star and smiled. And it smiled back (swear). 

"You look so small from here," I said.

"You look so small from here, too," it said.

"Oh, but I know you're bigger than you look," I said.

"You are, too, you know," it said.

Ugh. Metaphors. "But I feel so lost," I said.

"Silly thing. Have you forgotten what stars are known for?" it said.

"Oh, right. And look, I'm almost home!" I said.

"See?" it said.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," it said.

---

The kid's name is Mikey. 

Damnit.