My 'Velveteen' Doll

(Note: Some lines were extracted from Margery Williams Bianco’s The Velveteen Rabbit for literary effect....)




"What is REAL?" I asked my doll today....

"Real isn't how you are made," said she. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become REAL....."

"Does it hurt my doll?"

"Sometimes," admitted my doll, for she was always truthful. “Remember Chary when you first got me you were just four years old? Back then I had long, glossy, silky hair. Almost every day you would comb it with that red “suyod” (the one with super narrow and straight teeth) as if I got some yucky lice.... Well, that hurt a little bit I must confess and certainly damaged my hair and almost skinned my scalp. You would also love to undress me and launder with your bare hands my one and only overalls; as well as wash my hair not with a shampoo though, but with Mr. Clean blue detergent soap. As a result, my hair now looks like it’s undergoing some kind of a chemo therapy. A little wiggle here and there... and soon I am going to be as bald as an eagle. I may be losing my hair now but I know it’s because it has been loved off. Really, when you are Real you don't mind being hurt.”

“Even if you look very shabby now? And still wearing that jumpsuit which is kind of tattered now?” I teased.



With soft and gentle voice my doll replied, “These things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

“I know what you mean by your last line. One time I asked my daughter if she wanted to have you. She threw one quick glance at you and without any thought of euphemism she answered: ‘No thank you, Mom!’ Sorry about that; whew, kids nowadays can just be so outspoken!”

“Right! She finds me ugly because she doesn’t know me that well and doesn’t understand me at all. Don’t blame the poor girl! But what do you know about me anyway, Chary? After you had outgrown your doll days, what had become of me? Tell me....”

“...Gulp...gulp...I plead guilty here, my doll. You can charge me with abandonment, desertion, and negligence and I won’t contest it. I know I abandoned you during the wake of the super typhoon Undang in 1984 when we had to evacuate to a neighbour’s house and that you had nobody to calm you from your fear of the howling winds. I know I had left you behind when I went to study/work/live in the big(?) city and never cared to write, phone, text, email you. God, that was so apathetic of me! Guilty as charged....”

“Yes, for almost more than 30 years I was all by myself--ignored, forsaken, uncared for, wallowing in loneliness. But the worst part was one of your sisters chucked me out of the house. I was put into a sack along with a lot of crap and junk and was dumped in a compost pit to rot.... Then in June 2008 Typhoon Frank deluged us in Aklan. The surging current untied the sack, casted me out, and swept me away from what would have been my burial ground. And by a combo of fate, luck, and miracle I got tangled between some dead guava tree branches on your yard. And there your dear mother found me few days after the typhoon, soiled and caked with mud. She could have just tossed me back to that pit... but instead she picked me up and right away gave me a good and hard scrub from head to toe.... ”

“My doll, I know about that. When mother told me about your Typhoon Frank horrendous ordeal I was misty-eyed. It was like an ‘it-dawned-on-me’ moment. I then saw the reason why you triumphantly rose above many tides of life with and without me: to happily remind me of a once carefree and worry-free episode of my life--my childhood years; and to gently remind me to unselfishly let my girl seize every single day of her childhood to the max. And will you give me a chance to make it up to you? I pledge, from now on you go wherever I go; after all you won’t need any passport or visa, train or bus or plane ticket...lucky you! Now I’ve got to ask you this one last question: I suppose YOU are REAL?"

And my doll, in an answer, meet my gaze intently...lifted her chin slow motion-ly... and then flashed me her smooching lips affectionately.... MWAAHH!!!

A Letter to W.W. (William Wordsworth)...

Hey Wil!

Could you please pm Mr. Snow to stop stomping Calgary? Please make him understand that whatever that is holding him back from moving on is purely his illusion and delusion. Seriously, we will all be fine here without him. Hmmm...he can go like for instance, meet my dear relatives and friends in the Philippines? Not a bad idea, huh!

Then could you as well buzz Mr. Spring to spring up pronto/ora mismo? He’s been dilly-dallying, huh! I hope he’s not into that “Filipino time” mode (jejejeje)...

Sorry dude if I sound very demanding and impatient. Well, am just a lonely soul-wanderer itching to plant a host of golden daffodils (NOT crazy daisy) beside our perimeter wall, beneath the crab apple tree. The thoughts that are floating high in my mind right now is a crowd of daffodils fluttering and waltzing in the breeze, or tossing their heads in a samba dance, or gyrating their hips to the tune of "Nobody...nobody...but you!" ; and me, in an ala-queen mood, sitting cross-legged on my throne scooping to mouth minty chocolate ice cream mixed with a tablespoon of Tanduay... while my heart dances with the daffodils....

Thanks,
D.H. “Desperate Housewife”

P.S. They say you wrote a poem about daffodils. May i know your blog site so I could read it? Salamat po!

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Sa Pagpatak ng Ulan...

Pinagmamasdan ko ang langit na nagsisimula nang pabigatin ng maiitim na ulap. Ilang sandali na lamang at papatak na ang ulan.

Tag-ulan na naman. Bawat patak ng ulan ay nagpapaalaala sa akin ng isang karanasang itinuturing kong isang napakalaking pagsubok sa aming pagkakaibigan ni Myzlie.

Magkapitbahay kami ni Myzlie. Sapul pagkabata, mula sa elementary hanggang sa tumuntong ng sekondarya, ay naging matalik na magkaibigan kaming dalawa. Sa oras ng problema, sa oras ng kasiyahan, maging sa oras ng kalokohan, palagi kaming magkasama. Naghihiraman ng damit, pera, papel, bolpen, notebooks, at lahat-lahat na. Nagtatapatan ng problema tungkol sa mga away at tampuhan sa bahay, tungkol sa mga crush na may ibang nagugustuhan. Kung saan may party at outing, hindi pupunta ang isa kung ayaw ng isa. Minsan, hindi pinayagan si Myzlie ng kanyang Mama na pumunta sa birthday party ni Yrah, isa ring kapitbahay. Pero nang matiyak niyang ang kanyang mga magulang ay nagpapahinga na sa loob ng kanilang kwarto at ang kanyang kapatid at yaya nito ay tulog na rin, dali-dali siyang nagbihis at dinaanan ako sa bahay. Natuloy kami sa party at talagang nag-enjoy. Mag-aala-una na nang maalala naming umuwi. Si Myzlie ang una naming inihatid. Papasok na lamang siya sa gate nang mabulabog ang nahihimbing nilang aso. Nagkagulo sa bakuran ng mga Marquez. Muntik nang mabaril ng kanyang Papa si Myzlie dahil napagkamalan itong magnanakaw. Ang resulta, dalawang linggo kaming naghati sa allowance ko.

Nasa ikaapat na taon na kami noon sa sekondarya. Ilang buwan na lamang at magtatapos na kami. Pangarap ni Myzlie na maging isang tanyag na newscaster sa radyo at TV katulad ng kanyang idol na si Korina Sanchez. Samantalang ako, hilig ko naman ang pagsusulat ng mga kwento at tula na siyang nag-udyok sa akin upang kumuha ng journalism. Naipangako naming sa isa’t-isa na kahit hindi na kami magkaklase pagtuntong sa kolehiyo at anuman ang mangyari, mananatili pa rin kaming matalik na magkaibigan.

Hanggang maganap ang isang pangyayaring naging daan upang mapatunayan ni Myzlie kung gaano kalalim ang pagpapakahulugan niya sa salitang “kaibigan”.

Setyembre noon, buwan ng tag-ulan. Pasado alas singko na ng hapon nang matapos ang exam namin sa physics. Talagang nahirapan kaming lahat sa problem solving tungkol sa temperature and expansion. Paglabas namin sa eskwelahan niyaya ko si Myzlie na magmiryenda sa paborito naming snack house. Halos kalahati pa lamang ang nauubos sa inorder naming ice cream nang biglang magdilim ang kalangitan at bumuhos ang pagkalakas-lakas na ulan. Hinintay naming tumila ang ulan ngunit alas siyete na ng gabi’y umuulan pa rin. Niyaya ko na si Myzlie na lumabas ng snack house at mag-abang na kami ng masasakyan. Ngunit kakaunti na lamang ang mga dyip na bumabyahe at puro puno pa ang mga ito kaya’t hindi kami agad nakasakay. Ang masaklap pa’y wala kaming dalang payong; tiyak na maliligo kami sa ulan. Ipinasya na lamang naming sumakay sa isang taxi na huminto sa tapat namin. Habang daan pauwi, malakas pa rin ang ulan, madulas at madilim ang highway. Mag-aalas otso pa lamang ngunit halos wala nang sasakyang dumaraan. Bigla na lamang tumigil ang taxing sinasakyan namin. Nagkadiperensya raw ang makina, sabi ng mamang driver sabay baba upang tingnan ito at ayusin. Nagsisimula na kaming kabahan ni Myzlie. Baka nag-aalala na ang mga magulang namin. (Kung bakit kasi hindi pa nadiskubre ang cellphone at text noon.)

Nagulat na lamang ako nang biglang may humatak sa akin pababa sa taxi at tutukan ako ng patalim sa leeg. Ang driver ng taxi, may hayok na ngiti sa labi at nanlilisik ang mga mata! Nagpanic ako at hindi ko alam ang gagawin. Hindi ako makasigaw dahil sa patalim sa aking leeg. Ngunit si Myzlie ay hindi nawalan ng loob. Sinunggaban niya ang driver at nakakalas ako sa pagkakahawak nito. Silang dalawa’y nag-agawan sa patalim, hanggang isa sa kanila’y napahandusay. At nagsanib ang ulan at dugo sa nakabulagtang katawan. Ang malakas na ulan… saksi sa kabayanihan ng aking dakilang kaibigan. Isinugod si Myzlie sa ospital ngunit hindi na siya umabot pa….

Hayan na, nagsisimula nang pumatak ang ulan kasabay ang mga luhang masaganang umaagos sa aking mga mata. At sa pagpatak ng ulan, naalala ko ang mga salitang huling namutawi sa mga labi ni Myzlie: “Sino man ay handing ialay ang kanyang buhay para sa isang kaibigan. Ngunit hindi lahat ay nagkakaroon ng kaibigan na karapat-dapat pag-alayan ng buhay….”

Kahit sa pagtila ng ulan, hinding-hindi kita malilimot Myzlie….

Crazy Daisy...

I was running some errands in a grocery store when I caught a glimpse of a bunch of flowers on a lady's pushcart. From a distance they looked like plastic or paper for their seemingly unbelievable bright colors but at a closer look they were real and live and so I too bought a bouquet of them--CRAZY DAISY it said on the label. Finally, Spring has sprung up and so have the flowers. And then daughter saw the bunch: "Mom, they were DYED though!" Silence echoed...eyes bulged...jaw dropped....TOINK!!! "Ah, oh...you're right, sweety!"....AWWWWW! Abi ko sa 'Pinas lng may galugom bulak.....CRAZY CHARY, hey!

A Red Day

(11/04/07)

I did not wish for it. But it seemed that some forces in the universe had conspired to make my birthday (Oct.27) a literally RED day!

It all began in the eve of Oct. 26 when I got a text message from Katrina, one of my student-writers, stating that we would wear red shirts for the Division Press Conference Contest slated on the following day.

Though I had already something in my mind as to what I’d wear for that day (and certainly it wasn’t a red one) I obliged as I didn’t want to be a wet blanket.

Anyway, nothing went red for the duration of the one-day contest but I could figuratively say it was a bloody war among the best student-writers coming from the different districts of Iloilo. At the end of the contest, our school emerged the 2nd highest pointer! Must be red power, huh!

Surely, it was a tiring day…but hey, I still had my birthday to quietly celebrate with myself and my husband (our unica hija had gone to Aklan for her sem-break)! After parting ways with my students, I went straight to SM City to meet my husband and buy RTCM (ready-to-chew-meals).

First thing we bought was a layer of black forest cake topped with cherries. Then we headed to one fast food chain to buy fried chix. I was falling in line and patiently waiting for my turn when everyone was distracted by a commotion outside. It was seemed like a slow mo: I turned around and there, few feet away from me, were two teeners furiously beating and lashing one guy with a belt’s metal buckle. The poor guy was in no match against the two and his head and arms were already bleeding. And where were the mall’s security guards? Sure they arrived…and caught the two agressors red-handed!

Right after I got my order, we hurriedly left the mall with shoppers who were either too stunned of the incident to move or were simply waiting for the next event to unfold.

While on board a jeep, I began to think this must be a hellish day! I closed my eyes to shake off the creepy red-alert feeling that had started to set in me.

"Hey, why not count your blessings instead! You’ve just turned a year older today, so what have you lived for?" Yeah, you’re absolutely right my dear conscience! There are other things more worthy of contemplation and reflection than the what-i-call-red-day!

I closed my eyes and started to rewind in my thoughts the bday txt messages i got from my megafriends: Cynth, Dane, Ramir; from my sistahs who were then enduring a slight hangover from a midninght-to-dawn party fevah at Bora’s Coco Mangas: Yey, Khayet, Gelay; from my cousin Nene, and of course just like during my bday last year, from HER EXCELLENCY GLORIA MACAPAGAL-ARROYO and PGM Winston Garcia—my so-called GSIS Kahit Saan, Kahit Kailan, Maaasahan Mo Family. Clap! Clap! Clap! And this thought made me smile…no…GRIN!

I gave a sigh of relief…and there…I somehow felt better.

I then opened my eyes…

SURPRISE! SURPRISE!

It was just then I realized that:

my right hand was holding a RED box of KFC’s sizzling hot chicken…

my husband got a RED box of Red Ribbon cake…

the passenger to my right was wearing a RED sando…

and

the guy across me got a RED knapsack on his lap…!


Ah oh…it was still a REDDDDD day for me!

Of Brit and Teri

(10/04/07)





Ayyy, this time i luv britney spears more than i do teri hatcher….

Why?

At least si britney, in her "leaked song", considers Phillippines a refuge….
Read on the lyrics of her song tentatively titled "Piece of Me (some reports say "Pieces of Me"/"Everyone Wants a Piece of Me")...

I’m Miss American Dream since I was 17
Don’t matter if I step on the scene
Or sneak away to the Philippines
They still got the pictures of my derriere in the magazine
You want a piece of me? You want a piece of me…
(This is in youtube too!)

And Teri Hatcher?
Who has not ever heard of her *** line from one episode of Desperate Housewives:

Okay, before we go any further, can I check those diplomas? Cause I just would like to make sure they are not from some med schools in the Philippines"?

So, Brit, definitely you’re NOT DESPERATE….

And Teri,

SORRY, I don’t want a piece of you….

To Do List

To Do List


1. Wake up.

2. Drink milk.

3. Eat breakfast.

4. Drink vitamins.

5. Eat lunch.

6. Read books.

7. Wash up.

8. Eat dinner.

9. Sleep.

No, this is NOT my To Do List. It’s my daughter’s which one summer afternoon she scribbled on her all-around notebook. I say all-around because it’s one thick notebook where you’d find all her kinds of drawings like Batman 1 and Batman 2 (the bad guy), a two-deck car, or her spelling exercises, and yep, some lines/strokes that look like a graffiti to an adult’s eyes (Oh, well…it’s a child’sworld anynway).

I don’t know what prompted her to write that To Do list. I just presumed that either she got bored of drawing, or simply got tired of my repetitive commanding: "Kaish, eat your breakfast now! … Kaish, drink your vit…blah…blah..blah…!" that she quietly resolved to make her To Do list and just do her tasks on her own (but this, I have to see yet!)

As I read her To Do List, I was kind of amaze to find all her words correctly spelled and her thoughts logically organized. So I sat down with her and dictated some spelling sentences like: My father is tall; I love pizza… which she got all correct.

Nope, I’m not claiming she’s a genius as never have I wished for Einstein’s genes in her. It’s just that weeks before enrolment, I was harboring some apprehensions about transferring her to another school (though my husband is 100% sold-out of the idea) which system is greatly, if not totally, different from her former school, and I fear that she might have a hard time adjusting, and eventually quit school!

But then popped her uncoached and accurately written To Do List which admittedly gave me the much-needed go signal.

And so I bravely filled up the school RF which I stashed in a shoe box and there remained untouched for weeks, headed to the bank and paid the 20% downpayment for tuition fees + P for books and supplementary materials, then presented the copy of the bank deposit slip to the school’s registrar, and presto, the RF was stamped: ENROLLED (Kinder 2)!

Now, is my girl able to adjust to her new school and cope with a new system?

Gracious Heavens,YES! In fact, next week she’ll have her first quarter exam….

And so, here goes MY To Do List for today:

1. Make a reviewer for Kaish’s exams in Phonics, Civics, Chinese Math and Vocabulary, Sci., Fil., Math, Computer, Eng., and Reading….

2. Review her tonight….

And my other to do will have to wait after daughter’s exams :>

Color blind, color deaf...

(06/03/07)



Poor me! I must have been color blind and color deaf lately. My six year old daughter made me realize this.

Days ago I was flipping through the pages of her notebook when my attention was caught by her drawing of a two-storey car with rays around on some of its parts. Curiosity got in me so I asked her to explain it to me. It was two-storey daw because there were many children inside it and that the rays around were lights so that they could see where they were going. Hmmm…sounds logical enough.

And the last question I asked: “What’s the color of the car?”

She quickly answered, “Cerulean!”

“A what?”

“Cerulean! That’s my favorite color!”

Obviously, I haven’t seen such color nor heard of it (and this makes me sort of color blind and color deaf ). So I asked my daughter if she had that color/crayon and she gladly showed, and even read, it to me.

Poor me!

Well, well, back to my crayon days in the 80’s, the most “sophisticated” colors then were simply flesh, fuchsia, etc., and no CERULEAN yet. And when I went to high school I’ve got to thank my creative writing teacher Ma’am Methusellah Santamaria for introducing me to sardonic, scarlet, bismuth, ebony, and ivory ….(but not to CERULEAN).

Also when I went to college the most colorful color I met was vermillion, and never the shadow of CERULEAN.

And sssshhhh…. not a single color was ever tackled in my graduate and post graduate studies…!

Anyway, CERULEAN is deep blue lang naman pala according to Mr. Oxford.

Hay naku, I guess I need to add more colors to my days. I don’t wish to be color blind and color deaf for the rest of my life.

My Joyful Affair with the Flower Aristocrat

(09/06/07)


I cannot fully admit that i have a green thumb but i love green things sprouting on the horizontally-challenged space that surround my home-cute-home. I have to utilize and maximize every square inch of vacant lot available for a blade of bermuda grass or a piece of a decorative pebble so as to have a house-with-a-garden. Though a garden with a house would have been better (or best) but for now a pocket garden is all what my pocket can afford.

Anyway, one variety among my few greens is orchids in pots and others attached to 2 driftwoods. I’ve been tending them for almost a year now; few have withered and died, but most have survived!

Actually, I wasn’t into orchids before until Manong Romeng started to frequent our subdivision every weekend. Perched on his right shoulder was a big basket of orchid plants which according to him came all the way from Bacolod City. The flowers were just irresistible! And like Persephone of the Greek myth, I was sooo enticed by their wondrous bloom that i just had to buy, kahit 2 stems lang!

And you could tell what happens next. The two stems had become x2 and even x3! Hala, it could be addicitng pala! And when i calculated and realized that i had shelled out a good amount of money for this adorable aerial plant, i had to hide (hehehehe…but please don’t tell!) from Manong Romeng the next time he would pass by our block. He would call out though, "Ma’am, maayong aga! Mabakal ka orchids?" And I just had to restrain myself from responding to his call just to avoid being tempted to buy more! And when I sensed and felt that he had went on his way after presuming that I was’nt home I would hurry to the window and surreptitiously peep at the jalousies to see if he got new species, or just to look and admire (hayy, the most i could do) the colorful flowers in his basket.

So okay, what do i get in return from these orchids__the so-called floral aristocrat of the flowering plant world?

SPELL this: J—O—Y !

down

in my

heart…


deep,

deep,

down

in my heart!


Truly, it is such a joy for me to discover new refreshing green roots branching out from the plant itself…

or new bulb-shaped singil or saha bulging and growing…

or new stems of flower buds sprouting and reaching out….

And i just can hardly contain the excitement in my heart as I joyfully wait for the morning when these buds open to eye-catching colors of stunning orange, deep fuchsia, butter yellow, majestic purple, and virginal white…all blooming in full glory!

Kind Strangers

(First published in the Phil. Daily Inquirer, Youngblood Column, Jan. 8, 2002.)

ONE of the stories mother often read to me when i was young was LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. And everytime she finished reading, she would remnd me: "Strangers cannot be trusted. So don’t talk to them. Look what happened to Little Red Riding Hood."

Remembering Little Red Riding Hood and believing my mother’s warning, I became aloof to strangers. However, this attitude changed five days after I got married on Dec. 18, 1999.

For our return trip to Iloilo City after spending our honeymoon in Bohol, my husband and I boarded the M/S South Korea. Six hours after it left Cebu City, the ship ran aground off Bantayan Island in Cebu and quickly sank in the morning of Dec. 23.

This tragedy introduced into my life several strangers. I don’t even know the names of some of them, but I will always remember all their faces and their good deeds for the rest of my life. They are:

THe CREW members of the M/V Edago who rescued us from the stormy sea where we had been floating for 8 hours. They saw us being tossed by gigantic (as big as houses, I swear!) waves, helped us aboard their ship and fed us with what was left of their provisions: lugaw and a few packs of noodles cooked in a big casserole filled with water so that hundreds of hungry mouths fished out of the sea could eat. They brought us safely to Salazar Shipping Institute (a school ship) in Sta. Fe, Cebu.

The OWNERS and STAFF of Salazar Shipping Institute who took us in and fed us of our first real meal for the day consisting of rice, dilis, sardines, bread, and black coffee (even without sugar, the coffee tasted heavenly!)

The FOLKS of Sta. Fe who at the unholy hour of 2 AM braved the rough waters and the chilling wind to ferry me and other injured survivors to the Bantayan Island District Hospital.

The DOCTORS and NURSES at the said hospital who attended to my fractured right ankle and to my husband’s bruises which we sustained from jumping off the ship. And the social workers who gave us slippers, underwear, toothbrushes, and toothpaste.

THe handsome PILOT of the plane that airlifted us to Cebu City and who gave me a pack of BlueSkies soda crackers with these kind words,"Eto na lang ang natira o. Pasensyahan mo na lang."

The alert and on-the-ball SOLDIERS of Mactan Air Base in Cebu City who facilitated our transfer to Chong Hua Hospital

MR. GEORGE TIO, the administrator of Chong Hua Hospital, who let my husband make long distance calls for free to our families in Iloilo City. DR. EDDIE YAP and his competent team of doctors who spent Christmas Day operating on my fractured ankle; the cheerful nurses (yeah, I remember two of them dancing the swing in the Recovery Room); and the staff who treated me with gentle care and patience making my four days of confinement comfortable.

JESSIE LIM, the operations manager of Coca-Cola Bottlers Phils. Inc., Cebu Plant, who after being contacted by my husband’s Manila-based uncle (Herni Defante), with his wife searched and looked for us at the Emergency Room of Chong Hua Hospital and brought us fresh lumpia and apples, which my husband and I had for our noche buena. Also, they bought us some clothes and gave us money for my hospital needs.

NENA SOGOCIO, a DSWD social worker who paid us constant visits and even gave us P100.

MANANG VIRGIE, a fellow survivor of the sea tragedy, who offered us a place to stay in Cebu City.

THEY were all strangers to me, and I to them, but they treated us with kindness. These acts of kindness indeed saved my husband’s life and mine, and the short encounter we had with them proved that strangers can also be trusted.

Now I have recovered from the trauma, my ankle has healed, and I’m a mother to a bubbly girl. Tonight, before we retire to bed, I will be telling her the story of LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD…and of my own experience with those kind strangers, of course….

When kids ask the darndest questions...

One lazy summer afternoon I was curling up in bed with one of my fave mags Good Housekeeping when my little girl marched into our room with these questions:

How are babies made?

What is a virgin?
I know this moment would come when my kid would ask me "those" kinds of questions. However, it came when I least expected it!

For seconds I was caught offguard; my mind was racing with my hearbeat pulsating rapidly as I pondered for an answer. As a mother, I felt this was one delicate matter I had to handle. Standing in front of me was a six-year-old girl whose innocent eyes begged for an answer. And she was no Scarlett O’Hara that Rhett Butler’s my-dear-I-don’t-give-a-damn remark would be enough to suffice her.

After what seemed like an eternity of contemplating, I straightened my torso (to exhibit confidence and authority) and answer in the most casual tone and manner I could muster:

Babies are made when a sperm cell and an egg cell met and fertilized.

A virgin is someone who has not engaged in sex(ual act).

Then I asked: Do you understand what fertilized and sex mean?

Nooooo was her quick answer.

Indeed, she might not have understood a thing of what i had given her for an answer but at least, it was science-based. And I believe it was the truest, the most correct, the most precise answer. Though incomprehensible for her, yet it was an answer that would not certainly confuse her especially someday when her future science class discusses the topic.

So I told her, "Okay, I’ll explain that to you when you’re old enough to understand…."

With sealed lips, she nodded in agreement…

…and there ended our Q&A session….

No further questions asked, Bill Cosby!

Marriage as an Ice Cream

(An excerpt from a message delivered during Jayme-de los Reyes Nuptial on May 20, 2009 at Punta Villa, Iloilo City.)

Being married myself for nine years, I can best compare married life to an ice cream. Well, you see, an ice cream has different flavors: mango, ube, buko salad, rocky road, or lately merong very rocky road, and other flavors. Also, ice cream comes in brands like Selecta and Magnolia. May tinatawag rin na limited edition na seasonal lang ang paglabas sa market; meron ding supreme na pinakamahal sa lahat, and the classic one na available in the market at all times.

So how do all these relate to marriage?

1. First, a married life, like an ice cream, has different flavors too. It is loaded with different emotions: joy, bliss, happiness, at syempre hindi talaga mawawala yung “rocky road” na sinasabi nila–mga tampuhan, away-away, petty quarrels. But let this be the flavor that would enhance and strengthen your relationship. After all, kahit ano pang problema ang dumating, lahat yan, matutunaw rin lang katulad ng ice cream.

2. Second, sa pagpapakasal, kailangan kang maging “selecta” or selective of your partner. We’re happy that finally Nonoy has found the right partner in the person of Nelisa to be his life companion. May whatever qualities you have discovered from each and the other deepen your relationship, and draw out the best person in you.

3. Third, marriage is like a Magnolia ice cream. As we know, magnolia is a flower which color is white–so pure. In husband-wife relationship, whatever thoughts you think about your partner, whatever words you speak to your spouse, whatever acts you demonstrate to your better-half, always carry them out with pure, sincere, and good intentions in your heart.

4. Fourth, a life partner is like a “limited edition” ice cream. This means that you have to fully–100 percent–give your loyalty and commitment to your partner. Honesty is a must for a marriage to become successful and lasting.

5. Fifth, married life is also like a “supreme” ice cream. In husband and wife relationship, no one is supreme or above the other. Both are equal and therefore should have mutual respect for each other. Let Christ, the Supreme Being, be the center of your married life and anchor your faith in Him always.

With all of these, your love will be like a “classic” ice cream. Classic in a sense that kahit ano pang different flavors or emotions, problems, that you would face and confront, your relationship is surely to last and will be blessed by Christ.

Congratulations and best wishes to Nonoy and Nelisa!

Happy Birthday...Happy List

What made my birthday really happy? Let me count the ways and list them here:

1. I turn 35 this year…and am still very much alive!!! Thank God for another breathe of life and for the chance of experiencing life in a country new to us.

2. I got my Maple Leaf Card (Permanent Residence Card) right on my birthday. A coincidence? No, it’s God’s amazing grace!

3. I silently wished for a bouquet of flowers and I got one! Nope, not from hubby. He still can’t find in his heart the understanding, I believe, of my placing the bunch of red roses he gave me 13 years ago (that long!!!!, and he can’t move on???)) in the washroom when all I thought was those flowers really made a good ambience there. Anyways, thank you Mckenna family for the exquisite flowers. I had them on the dining table and not anywhere else; I don’t want to commit the same “flower-folly” I did 13 years ago…hahaha!

4. I got loved ones, relatives, and kabayans here who slaved themselves in the kitchen (thankfully, not one of them burnt nor sliced a thumb!) to do some cooking and baking:

Uncle Ernie and Auntie Gemma: Gracias for the yummy cheesecake, lasagna, and muffins!

Ate Nene and family: Salamat for the traditional Pinoy pansit!

Ate Vicky: Your cottage cheese was truly a “bite-ful”!

Sis Sahlee: You are a superb party organizer and planner!

Sis Gelay: What’s in your fingers that you could do the most perfect slice of embutido?

“Ex-bf “ Ric: Those pork and beef barbecues were great even they were just oven-cooked!”

5. I got birthday cards as well as gifts–just when I thought I was overage for those stuffs!—Uhum! Thanks Pravlee, Banjojie, Aunt Therry, Acuna family, Aunt Gem & Uncle Ernie, Kuya Supremio and family, and Mckenna family (You guys could surely hear the whisper of the wind! Those Chapter Indigo gift cards were also “silently wished for”!).

6. Lastly, I got cybergreetings from kaberks and relatives: Meren clan, Alma May, Joy, Rodz, Lea, Leoda, Jon, Agatha, Andi, Johmy, Beespunky, Lala, Mitzie, Glyn, Sucy, Pauleen, Lourdes, Zia. Thanks for remembering!

Can’t help but look forward to another happy birthday next year. And so I better start count the days now…

Kahon ng Pasalubong Para Kay Neneng

ni Chary Lou Navarro-Defante




Tuwang ‘di maipinta
Ang sumilay sa musmos na mukha
Ng bunsong si Neneng
Nang marinig niyang
Si Nanay niya
Darating mula sa Singapore.

Nakikita ni Neneng
Si Nanay niya pababa ng eroplano
Bitbit-bitbit ang kahon ng pasalubong
Para sa kanya.

At dumating din sa wakas
Si Nanay ni Neneng
Ngunit ang kahon ng pasalubong
Hindi niya bitbit.

Bagkos
Si Nanay ni Neneng
Nasa loob ng kahon
At siyang binibitbit
Pababa ng eroplano.

(Para sa alaala ni Flor Contemplacion)

Published in:

-Home Life
March, 1996

-Mantala 3 (An Anthology of Phil. Lit)

Ang Ukit

by chary lou navarro-defante




Dapithapon…
isang nilalang
may luha sa mata
nag-ukit ng kanyang kabiguan
sa pisngi ng buhangin.

Bukang-liwayway...
bumalik siya
may ngiti sa labi
hinanap ang kanyang ukit

Wala na…
nabura na ng alon.

Published in Home Life
February, 1995

Si Lola Isyang at ang Matandang Puno ng Kaimito

by Chary Lou Navarro-Defante

(For UST students who need this in their Lit 102 Class)

Isang gabi
Si Lola Isyang dumungaw sa bintana
Natanaw niya ang mga daliri ng hangin
Isa-isa, dahan-dahang pinipitas
Ang mga dahon ng matandang puno ng kaimito.

At ang mga mata ni Lola ay kinurot
Ng mga daliri ring iyon
Isinara ni Lola ang bintana
At dahan-dahang nahiga.

Doon naramdaman ni Lola Isyang
Ang hapdi na dala ng kurot
Ang talukap ng kanyang mga mata’y
Unti-unting nag-abot
Kasabay ng pagkaubos ng mga dahon
Ng matandang puno ng kaimito.

The author wrote the poem in 1994 when she was a 4th year college student. It was just an output for a poetry writing seminar with Palance Awardee Dr. Leoncio P. Deriada who is also a poetry editor of Homelife magazine. The piece was first published in the book Patubas: An Anthology of West Visayan Poetry: 1986-1994 by the National Committee on the Literary Arts (NCLA) of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) and then in Philippine Literatures: texts, themes, approaches by UST Publishing House in 2008.


The poem was inspired by O. Henry's short story The Last Leaf. She used the puno ng kaimito or star apple tree because it was one of her favorite "childhood fruits".