Madness is a word never to be precise, its definition has no boundaries, no beginnings nor endings– a limitless definition depending on the person’s perception of it. Collide it with a vast sunflower field, an enormous field filled with those bright yellow flowers that seems to dance when the wind come and the lives of the people who tends it, and definitely, one can have a remarkable childhood.
Remarkable. Well, of course, everything that happened in that span of years that people usually calls as the childhood years are the driving force that made anyone who they are when they reach adulthood. Whether it’s sad, happy or even scary– it’s an experience you can’t erase from who you are. It’s a vital part of you being you. And somewhere during adulthood, you have to face it one again and visit that happy place, sad place or even that scary place. It’s part of growing up or of the letting go phase anyone have to face before stepping out and facing greater challenges. (more…)
I dreamed about you last night, isn’t that something? I know, I know it’s been a while since the last time we’ve seen each other. Was that eight, ten or fifteen years ago– doesn’t really matter though, it doesn’t change anything, right?
I dream about the lake, yes– that special lake that we both loved. And the dream, though it’s not something new, is quite the same old story. Me, on my yellow sundress sitting on our picnic mat and trying my best to cover my legs as the wind playfully blew its breeze on me. And you, with your sheepish, boyish smile walks slowly towards me with something behind your back. I knew of course that it’s something for me and I would guess a thousand times that it will always be those red Tulips you picked on the garden near the lake. (more…)
Hera looked at the woman, dark circles around her eyes and an untidy hair. Sitting next to her, it was impossible to say that this woman is her best friend way back in high school. She was a star during those days: cheerleader, captain of the softball team, school’s president, prom queen and even became the valedictorian. She was every girl’s dream during high school, the awards and the fame that she had in those days were unprecedented by anyone–even her, the best friend.
Their families were of close ties, their mothers were best friends and their dads would go on fishing every Saturday night. As a result, they grew up together and became best friends. They would share toys, stories and secrets. Sandra was the achiever of the two. She was consistent on the top lists: from school achievement up to the cheerleader board. She was a popular kid and an awesome exemplification of balancing studies and extra activities. Hera on the other side is the best friend. Always on the average. She loves to read and write some stuffs. Not that creative to be on the school paper and she doesn’t even know all the names on the list of her batch. She’s independent and she loves spending her time at home– sewing the latest skirt she saw on the internet or reading the books she bought out of her allowance. (more…)
Time stood still after a long time of wishing and praying for something like this to happen. I watched the time in the menu bar as it stood at 10:32 in the morning and for some like five minutes already, it didn’t bulge. Time is standing still! To confirm what I thought is something phenomenal, I checked the wall clock and my wrist watch, all of them telling me that it is still 10:32. After a few moments and of trying to count up to 60, to convince myself that time is currently at its suspended mode, I sat back and relax. I watched as my workmates do their usual thing, programming something and then discussing it with their teammates for improvement. I watched them, closely, as I see one workmate transcend the different stages of working: from being active with a coffee in hand, to that grumpy sleepy beast that will surely eat you if you cross his way up to being plain sleepy and sometimes giving into that nappy time. (more…)
“I need some time on my own. I need to know for sure if you’re really is the one for me. I need to find myself. I need to be alone. I’m sorry.”
Those were the last words you said to me before turning your back from me and leaving our favorite coffee shop. That was the last time for us, your simple explanation and your hurried good bye, everything was gone in an instant. I stared at you as you walked straight into the alley of Gregory Street, the street where I first saw you when we were still young. I watched you go, something that we would argue about the week after that event. (more…)
After all these years, you finally came to see me. There were no tears anymore, it took years before they even dried up but they did and that too was many years ago. The longing passed by, so is the love that once flickered in the midst of all the events that came after the first time I kissed you. Those days has a vague place in my memory but it seems they were the best years of my life– the best but certainly something I cannot have all over again. Nobody would want those heart breaking ending, everyone likes the happy times but never the after math. The deafening silence, the tears and even the suicidal attempts that were too easy and too tempting.
I smiled at you, the years had taken its toll on you. The boyish smirk you always have was gone, it was replaced by a calm smile. A casual smile that I didn’t know you’re capable of. I wanna laugh at the thought of the things we shared: lazy afternoon’s at your apartment and the crazy talk that we always have. They were great and so are you.
I hugged you, for old time’s sake. This visit is something for the sake of a crazy promise I asked from you– and you never missed something like this, like you used to. Sometimes, when we were still young, I would think that you are way beyond my reach– even way beyond my horizon. Something I can’t have. Something I don’t deserve, not even the kiss or the touch. I had you once and that was enough.
I watched you leave again. This time, there will be nothing to look forward to; the promised have been fulfilled. And you’ll be really gone, for sure. And maybe, we’ll meet again somewhere, sometime but still a maybe. After all, you will always be something beyond my horizon.
He was just passing by. That’s the original plan, a plan made around 10 years ago when they were still lovers. A visit from anyone of them. There were premonitions or hear-says that your first love is never your last, that you’ll eventually meet someone better and you’ll then understand why that first one didn’t work out.
She was standing at the porch, the autumn wind playing with her hair and her skirt. She was beautiful, as always. The sparks in her eyes were still the same, it was overwhelming. That look– it melts his heart and his anger. Those big hazel eyes that would sparkle when she talks and as always, would swept him off his feet. How he anticipated this day more than his wedding day. (more…)
I was lying in the bed with a pain in my stomach, or so I thought. I knew I was having some kind of pain but I can’t feel them. All I know is that I am experiencing some kind of stomach ache at that instance. I twisted in my bed, trying to understand the blur of the pain and the things my mind say to myself.
He entered into the room, a face I’ve never seen before. He told me that he was the therapist, that he would heal my pains or whatever it is I am feeling right now. I stared at him, surely he looks calm and he has that kind of peaceful face. Peaceful, some lucky person who were born with a face that seems to radiate some kind of trustworthiness.
He told me to lie down and he started to massage my belly. I remembered one of my friends in college who told me that the belly should never (ever) be massage but I didn’t protest at that time. The pain was lessening, in my mind because I really can’t feel any pain at that moment. I closed my eyes when I smelled the scent of the oil he used to massage me. Lavender, I guessed.
He suddenly stopped when he felt something in my belly. At that instance, I felt it too. I was transported into what his hands had felt. Some thing I can’t put words into. Some thing that is giving me this tingling feeling of loneliness, of longing.
“I think you’re pregnant,” he said and stood up.
My sister who was sitting in a bench nearby looked at me. She stared into me with questioning eyes. I can feel the million questions she would throw towards me after this.I closed my eyes again and put my own hands where the man had felt it. It was still there, some kind of life inside of me. I touched it once again, proving to myself that it is real. I smiled at that thought of it, the years of waiting is finally over.
“Beep beep beeep!”
The harsh alarm woke me up. I was in a different room. My sister was gone, there was no bench on the spot where she sat. I blinked. I am in my room again. The longing came back.
Eddie was walking slowly on that too familiar road. Slowly but faster than his usual pace, his walking stick guiding him not to fall on the side walk. It was early in the morning, the world was already bright but the sun hadn’t greeted him with its sun rays. He tried to catch his breath and stopped for a few seconds and continued his pace. Ah! Old age can really give you a lot to ponder. He saw the small alley and slowly, staggering on his feet with arthritis he walked towards it. Not minding the pain or the cold breeze from the autumn wind, he turned right on St. Mary Street.
He stopped in front of a dark and old house. The bricks were from 1800’s and the house itself has stood seeing a lot of wars and crusades that took place in this wonderful place. He didn’t care about the history of the old house or the pristine look of its architectural design, he slowly gazed up, looking for something in the house. On the second floor of the house is a big window with white curtains. The curtains were dancing with the wind, giving him a view of what is inside the house.
He stood there, trying to remember old faces, old names, old friends and an old lover that he think the years took away from him. Before the war broke out, he was destined to marry Claire, the very beautiful Claire. The girl that she dreamed of kissing and spending lazy afternoons with. They were introduced once and he gallantly hold her hand as she blushed and tried not to be stiff. He smiled at the thought of it. How he misses her blushing cheeks and how she would look down to hid them.
There are no real victory in a war– a lesson he learned so hard. He lost Claire and the friends and the people around him. He came back, after almost a decade of being gone and he saw her again, at the church with her youngest daughter. He smiled bitterly, Claire married his friend John after the news of the bombing broke out. Everyone thought he died but how could he? He cannot let death take him away from Claire and their future but John did. And that was the end of it.
He placed the single rose that he bought at the station on the way here. Gazed once more on the white curtains and slowly went to his way. He will be back again tomorrow, and the day after and the one after that or to say it simply until the day that they would find his body sleeping, peacefully and unable to move.
“Mama, the old man is here again,” Claudia informed her elderly mother who is pretending to be asleep in her rocking chair.
The old woman smiled and opened her eyes.
“Get the flowers. I know he brought one,”she smiled and closed her eyes again.
A bad dream. She’s crying and murmuring in her sleep again. A nightmare of any kind. She came closer and closer. I can smell her hair, her perfume and even her sweet-scented sweat. I softly caressed her hair, trying to soothe her back to sleep. Studying her face, she is as beautiful as always, her eyelashes–which she argues to be shorter than mine were perfect for her eyes. And underneath them are her big brown eyes that captivated my eyes the moment I stared towards them. And her lips– tempting me to kiss them over and over again. Oh God! How I miss kissing her. (more…)