A Family Dinner.

I was the only one who remembered the oath taking. I was thinking of what dress to wear. I decided on wearing my Mommy’s clothes. She wanted very much for Tish to become a full pledged physician. Melancholic and mushy, I talked to her, that somehow, she would feel the joy of the occasion, each excited beat of the heart transmitted to heaven.

Whoaaah. I asked Jean what she was wearing. and came a clueless answer: for what? The oath taking, I said. A moment of silence. Then the disbelief. That is on Saturday? Aha, I said. And she blasted: Oh no, Ma, I have a talk in the morning, in Pasig, up to eleven, what time is the oath taking? Twelve, call time. Oh no, you go ahead and I will take the Uber.

That was Tuesday.
Then came Wednesday. I received a text.

Ma, it’s oath taking on Saturday, I forgot. Please fetch me Friday night.

Then Friday night came.

What am I to wear?
There are two beige gowns. You can try those.

Saturday morning. The rain dropped heavy in the early morning. Blessings, I prayed.

And sure enough, Tish and I waited at Jazz, where Jean resides, and together, we went to the Philippine International Convention Center.

The Plenary Hall was filled to a capacity. The oath taking was brief, the beeline to the ID and certificate was longer. The event was much a family groupie. I prodded Jean to take pictures of me. What else can we do?

When Tish came, feet blistered, we snapped a few souvenir shots.

Then drove all the way to Bonifacio Global City, away from the buzz, for a quiet dinner.


The Oath Taking

Saturday, the 21st of October, was a day to remember. Tish took an oath, the Physician’s Hippocratic Oath.

The oath was sacred. It binds the physician to a duty to save lives. Duty first, before all else. That means no Christmas celebration, no social life. No holidays.

Tish has realized early on that that exactly would be her life. Once, the family went to Cebu, for a wedding. She was the only one left behind because she had a test.

And her music, that has to be sacrificed also. Although the piano and singing has rendered her the most joy, life would be trifling if there is no service to one’s fellow man.

Now, there’s the unbreakable oath. Praying to God Almighty that Tish sustains the strength of mind and body when duty calls.

St. Paul of the Cross Rising

t. Paul of the Cross is some four decades and four years old.

When other churches around the Philippines have been in existence for four centuries, mine started to build when I was a child.

I can still remember the wind-tossed stilts and nipa that was our make-shift chapel come Sundays, in a grassy slope beneath our valley.

Somewhere between then and now, a bigger chapel was constructed. Our community had grown.

Four years ago, a new parish priest by the name of Fr. Eymard Balatbat came to take care of us. Under his watch, a new St. Paul of the Cross comes to rise.

The construction of the new church is going on its second Christmas. A long time constructing, but hey, every one is excited.

My snowflakes.

The event I look forward to this time of the year is my wordpress snowflakes. I am delighted with the scene on my page. Makes me feel the Christmas warmth yet to come, and I wish for my miracle.

Advent is a time of waiting. It is also a time of soul searching for me. The girls are bonafide professionals, serving the country and the people the best ways they know.

I am left home with my melancholic meditations. The garden is therapy for me, especially when the flowers bloom and the butterflies come to kiss.

But lest I become a bonafide recluse, my daughters bring me out to eat, or in this picture, to watch a musical. I love drama. If I wasn’t a teacher then, perhaps I’d been a playwright. Wow. That was then. Not now.

A brief moment to get together and party.

BUSY. These days, there ain’t no time for making memories. There is too much work to attend to. My daughters, being young professionals, are caught in that whirlwind of a world. Jean said that when she comes home to our humble abode in the outskirts of the metro, it is like relaxing in the province, where the sound of silence is distracted only by the ┬áchirping of the birds and the barking of our doggies. And Tish, how she sprawls on the bed and catch up on the much-needed sleep.

Rush Rush has been my daughters ways of life for a long time now. And we believe we have become anti-socials, declining invitations, simply because of time conflicting with hospital duty and disaster planning conferences.

Oh well, this Sunday was different, for we actually made is to a nostalgic party, my friend’s mother celebrated her 95th birthday. Splendid shindig. Befitted a lovely lady who gracefully raised her ten children. Wow.

And so, I prodded the waiter to snap a picture of my daughters and me. For the memories of a brief moment together.

On the eighth day of Christmas, a rant.

Dear backdoor neighbor who blasted all his fireworks towards my house. You must be sleeping soundly right now after all the irresponsible revelry you made last night, and I know, after all these years, that that comes with the thought that I’d pick on your mess by morning, which, I surmise, that you must be getting triply rich, judging from the number of sticks I have to bend over and collect. That’s all right. Vengeance is yours after I reminded you not to put barbed wires on your fence, because it is against the city ordinance. And the two times I asked baranggay to tell you to tone down the noise, because it was already midnight, and my children were studying for exams. Exams is a serious matter for us. After that, I was like that guy in the tv ad, I just have to endure your out-of-tune singing, and hoped you would treat me to a burger. Last night though was terrifying. I woke up like my house was on fire. But what can I do? I cannot curtail your merriment by shouting out the window to beg you to blow your bombs in your front yard. Just kept a prayer my house sustain your bombardment, And this morning, after a gasp at the state of my garden, I have to breathe in and condition my mind for some peace. It is New Year’s Day, after all. I am leaving fate to karma. Telling you though that one person you deprived sleep with is on duty today at the ER. And that couldn’t possibly be good karma. So, I checked my cp for a good image that would bring serenity to us all. And this blue tree popped. Christmas Season ends today, the eighth day of Christmas. Here’s to a blessed 2016. May neighbors be kind and congenial.

Joining the Selfie World

Time was, pictures were extravagant. A negative roll of 36 is costly. People have to prepare to look their best for a single shot.

This age, there’s a burst of shots for a single image, one has to choose from some 36 shots to get the best, and then photo shop later.

Photos come, not necessarily cheap, but, quick.

Here’s one candid moment, on my daughter’s birthday, She received a bouquet of roses from an admirer, and I owned it.


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