sporting a fever and inflamed under intense body heat, i was barely walking to get my house keys from leilanie. i need some rest. my throat was holding me captive a few hours ago.i miss my parents pretty badly and ache to be with my brothers in the philippines, to veer them to the right path under the same roof rather than from oceans away.
my mom's photographs. those family albums should be secured. her books should be protected. wasn't it only last month we were browsing through those autobiographies at the national bookstore? discussing politics on the phone? talking about the dangers and portents of al qaeda? my parents tended to be cerebral. my mom taught me how to read. my dad let me read his newsweek when i was still in grade school, nothing prodigious in that, merely a stage prior to adolescent that will pave for present preoccupations.
most of my friends still have their parents. i'm not like them anymore, however it hurts. i saw how my good friend honey moved on after the heartache of losing both. i applaud her courage in forging ahead with vitality . but my life will always be left wanting. there's no dearth of close alliances, unceasing friendships. but as my journey inclines towards the memory retreats, perusing the photographs still break me down.
(photos -- my mom's orchids as captured in june)
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