Riiiinnnngggggg!!!
Early morning, my alarm clock woke me up. Lazily, and with eyes still closed, I stretched my left arm to reach it on the small table beside our bed. Reach…search…tap… my alarm clock was not on the table! Still half asleep, I remembered that I kept it the previous night on the shelf because Aisha wanted to play with it. So, with a heavy head, I forced myself to get up to turn the alarm off before my little girl wakes up from the noise. As a routine (like a walking robot), I turned a soft room light on, took my towel from the rack and headed to take a shower. On my way to the bathroom, I looked at the wall clock and I was surprised—it was only 4:30am!! How come I was heading to the bathroom at 4:30 in the morning? Why did the alarm clock ring at 4:30am? Ahhh… for sure my kids played with it and they must have messed up with the time-setting again. Tsk. tsk. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep again although I have almost 2 hours left before I should wake Alia up for school, so I got myself a cup of coffee and went to the living room. I put my coffee down the table and sit on the couch. It was 4:45am. As I leaned backward and felt the headrest of the sofa, I felt relaxed and I closed my eyes… There was an abrupt scuttle of a hundred thoughts in my mind. I thought of what I would wear to work, will the weather be colder today, what snack should I let Alia bring to school, if Eric would want to eat breakfast at home or bring something to office, if Aisha would need to take a cough medicine, if my boss will come early for our meeting, if the executive committee will like the presentation I prepared the day before, if my Mom received the remittance I sent, if George replied to my email, when our electricity bill is due for payment, if we would need to find a new house to rent… etc..etc.. Isn’t it amazing how so many things in our lives seem very complicated, and yet remain simple? Like how fast a hundred thoughts could fill up a mind, things-lots of them- happen at the same time and still they seem to go by in tune. Somebody up there must be really busy syncing all these complexities and bringing them into the line. I remember how my life had been so simply undemanding before. I smile at the thought of waking up thirty minutes before work and feeling a slight hangover from a night out with friends. A hot shower had always been a favorite remedy. Oh boy, I miss those friends I had back then. I had to admit that everything changes. I learned that life never stays the same and so are the people we are living it with. Back in Manila, when I was younger, I thought being strong was just being able to assert myself, insist on what I want, rebel a bit, and stuff. But as I mature during more than ten years of my stay here in Riyadh, I’ve met a hell lot of people who had forced me to believe a very unlikely idea of being brave and strong- that it’s never enough that you assert yourself, but you also need to prove a hundred times that you’re correct and they’re wrong (I mean it-- a hundred times). Being tough does not only mean that you carry around a happy face but it’s showing people you are never scathed or hurt and you have to smile no matter how awful you feel inside. Is it perhaps because Im in the middle of a community of expatriates? - different families, different stories, different attitudes- we share the same drama of living away from “home”, surviving in an anomalous foreign workplace, and sometimes even trying hard to fit in a place which will never be our own. Among these not-so-foreign people around me, I’ve realized that I better be extra careful with whom I would consider friends and family. Most of them are only people- not even friends. There’s a bunch of users and abusers waiting for every chance they could get to bite off an ear. Even Facebook has to define what “friends” really are. I don’t buy the idea of categorizing a close friend and learning after a while that she/he has included me on his/her “restricted” friends. Will “real” friends do that? I guess not. So what’s the delete/ unfriend button for? Meanwhile, family is permanent and most of the time, it’s not even just biological. People and friends may hurt us but family will feel the slightest pain with us. Of course, family do not always agree on what we want, or accept what we do—but at the end of the day, a family will always accept us for who we are. I thank God for a beautiful family he has given me- the one I grew up with and the one I have around me right now. I wish I could see more of my friends and spend time with them. For the people around me who like, dislike, hate, love, or feels nothing at all, towards me thanks for being in my life too because you make me who I am-- probably not stronger but definitely more practical.
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DIVING IN SAUDI ARABIA AND LOVING IT! PART 2
**please read my previous blog DIVING IN SAUDI ARABIA AND LOVING IT! PART 1 at http://medimaldita.weebly.com/2/post/2010/11/diving-in-saudi-arabia-and-loving-it.html “…it’s for the thrill of the unknown... seeing creatures underwater and craving to see more of them again and again. For me, diving is neither a sport nor a hobby… every dive is always an overwhelming experience of life in a different world that ordinary people do not often see” -MMO After a weekend diving trip in Yanbu, Saudi Arabia last month (May 2011), our group immediately arranged another diving trip for June 2011- although we had the same Red Sea target, this time it had to be in Jeddah, KSA. In between the preparation (and waiting time) for the upcoming diving trip to the Red Sea in Jeddah, I was up to my neck organizing a Discover Scuba Diving Event for our PISD- Riyadh Group (which came as a success by the way) and a series of lectures for OWD, AOWD and Rescue Diver lecture sessions in our house in the evenings. So, last Wednesday, 1 June 2011, our group of nine divers hit the road to Jeddah Saudi Arabia at 11:00pm. The long drive (almost 10 hrs) was exhausting as usual but the thought of diving at the Red Sea (again) kept my spirit high. Although things didn’t go quite well as we hoped and planned especially that Thursday, we were assisted by co-PISD guyz Rannier and Dennis from Jeddah and our group had a quick siesta at the Rose Garden Suites before we go to Al Nakheel Beach Resort for diving. Of course, shopping for diving gears and stuff along the way was, as usual, one priority. DAY 1: LATE AFTERNOON DIVE We reached our first dive site (Al Nakheel Beach) around 5:00pm and we hasted gearing up for our first dive while the sun was still up. There were a lot of people in the resort and divers were everywhere. While we were at the divers’ dock, I look down and saw some divers exiting the waters and some making different entry styles. For a while, I was a bit scared. It was my very first diving adventure in Jeddah and the waves were big and strong even near the shore. I kept my fingers crossed--- I can do this, I thought. Our Instructor advised me to buddy up with Kahlui and Allan for that late afternoon dive. Eric had some throat infection and colds so he didn’t dive with us and he let me use his dive computer. Contrary to my expectation that I might have difficulty in our first dive, it turned out to be a cheerful, calm and good dive with my first time buddies (KL and AGA). DAY 1: NIGHT DIVE When the sun finally set in, we started preparing for our second dive: night dive. I had mixed feelings thinking about my first ever night dive: reluctant because I just started with my advanced open water diver course and I haven’t had read about the night dive section yet (although I have watched the video about it; anxious because I hardly had enough energy left from an exhausting trip earlier; excited because I’ve heard so many stories from co-divers about a totally different scene underwater at night; happy because my instructor allowed me to join the group for the night dive. All geared up (Eric’s new dive comp. and LED flashlight with me! Yey!!) and after a short discussion about night dive plan we gathered on the other platform to enter the water. I felt the splash of cold water on my face as I slowly joined the rest of the divers who were already waiting in the water. I couldn’t remember if I was more scared than excited or more excited than scared. I’ve always hated being out in the dark on-land…how could I possibly involved myself in a night dive?! I looked around and see the cheery faces of my co-divers and I started to feel more relaxed. I felt the LED flashlight that Eric had dangled on the left side my BCD jacket and turned it on just as I saw the other divers did. I felt my mask once again and fixed the regulator on my mouth securely. Upon the signal of our Instructor to go down, we descended slowly. The water was obviously colder than it was an hour before during our late afternoon dive. Everyone signaled “ok” and I did too… then we were instructed to stay close together as a group and be right next to our buddies all the time. As we carefully went deeper, I started to feel that the water has started to become a lot colder. I glanced at the dive computer and it registered 45 feet. I look around and noticed that my co-divers were feasting their eyes on the night spectacle. I saw flashes of lights as if they were dancing along the corals. Some fishes were attracted to the light and so they swim closer to us. I bet though that some were rather uncomfortable with the lights (and probably us) so they hide in the reefs. A few more glides and my flashlight caught a sight of a very big lion fish- the biggest one I’ve seen. For what seemed like forever, I stayed in awe on the very different picture in front of me during that night. There were a million thoughts running through my mind as we glided slowly around an extraordinary scene of glowing corals and reefs and the translucent little creatures joyfully dancing and playing around us as if enjoying the night as much as we, divers, do. We were all huddled not too far from the coral wall which extends way down below and way far across in a seemingly endless depth and length that my flashlight could not fathom. Everything I focused my light on was beautiful… everything just seems to glow…everything was so peaceful and yet so inspiring. I felt like I was dreaming in wonderland (or was it wonder-water??!!) until I felt a soft nudge from my Instructor as he signaled if I’m OK. I replied to him guiding the light to my hand for an “ok” signal. I checked my air and realized that I have already stayed long underwater although the length of time was not enough. I reckoned that it was already time for us to ascend so I rolled my flashlight around the site once again, as if to say goodbye to the nightly creatures I didn’t want to leave behind. DAY 2: MORNING DIVE= DEEP DIVE I woke up early the next day excited for my first ever DEEP DIVE. Fortunately, it’s part of my Advanced Open Water Diver Certification Course. From the hotel where we stayed at, our group hit the road off to Al Bilad Beach Resort @ 7:30am that Friday. There were more divers in Al Bilad than in Al Nakheel where we stayed the day before, but the divers’ dock in Al Bilad is smaller. The water was very clear and there were so many fishes along the shore—a real eye candy for snorkelers. But the waves were huge though- and the corals were really some pain on the feet and legs . Too many times, I fell from the big waves and I got bruises from them too! While assembling our gears and equipment, I realized that I am really going to DEEP DIVE for the first time. I mean, I have previously thought about it, but when I was right there listening to our Instructor about our multilevel-deep dive activity, I started to feel goose bumps in my stomach, a sign of an anxiety coming up. I couldn’t help but ask our Instructor if he really believes that I can go to our planned depth. Questions started forming in my mind—what if I cannot equalize during the deep dive? What if I accidentally tip off my regulator? What if I run out of air fast? What if…. What if?! I had to plead for a confirmation (and another re-confirmation) from my Instructor that I will be able to do it. I asked Eric several times if he was so sure that I can do a deep dive. For one, I didn’t trust myself—afterall, I’ve always been afraid of water all my life (except for the last seven months or so that I have involved myself to diving at least) and I don’t know how to swim! So finally, it came to me that I was left without a choice rather than to go for it. Our instructor assigned me to buddy up with my co-AOW Diver students. There were four of us: Allan, Joel, Me and Grace. I was instructed to stay close to Allan during the deep dive. Slowly we descended and I kept my eyes focused to the group. At first, I was very conscious of the depth we’re heading to that I almost have ignored the amazing underwater environment of the Red Sea. Then I forced myself to relax. I shrugged off the thought that it is a deep dive. I told myself that it is just an ordinary dive-and it should be an enjoyable one. I heard myself telling my “scared” self—“hey girl! It’s the Red Sea!!! You didn’t come all the way here to panic and get anxious eh??!!” Then I was free!!! At 40 feet, I glided with my buddy across the vast coral wall that was totally more stunning with the splash of sunlight softly touching it. There were innumerable tiny little damselfishes- playful as they are- seem to be everywhere I go. And my favorite two bar anemone fishes (they’re actually, my daughter Alia’s first friend-fish named Nemo from the movie). After a while, we were signaled to go deeper. I checked my SPG and it read 60 feet. It was a normal dive- cheerful and fun with Ka Louie joining me and Allan from time to time. I forgot that it was a deep dive! Then we went down deeper. I felt some pressure but it was not enough to make me uncomfortable. My dive computer read 95 feet! I looked around and everything felt warm and relaxing. We glided around, pointing to unique species around the site. The visibility was so good…it was unfortunate that we forgot to bring along a camera for the deep dive. DAY 2: NOON DIVE= FUN DIVE We could hardly stop laughing and giggling after the deep dive as it was a really great first time adventure for me. Reaching 95 feet below, calmly and with so much excitement, was a feat for myself that I will never forget. We spent the next hour surface interval waiting for our cylinder tanks to be refilled from the dive shop. I felt my head getting bigger as everyone in the group kept complimenting me for doing the deep dive successfully. Of course, everyone in the group knows that I was previously afraid and I was particularly uneasy of depths. I know I wouldn’t have done it without our group’s support too. These divers were like family to me- and I am so lucky to be among them in this divescapade. At 12:30pm, we were geared up for our fun dive! After a short briefing, our instructor agreed that Grace and I will be buddies in our fun dive (fourth and last dive during that weekend) and Eric, Jason and DM Dennis will be watching us. (You see….when we, ladies go diving….the men in our group think that we need babysitters… lolz). We planned to do some fish feeding underwater so we brought some packs of fish food along. However, during descent, I had difficulty holding my fish food and equalizing at the same time, so I dropped it (*dropped it, I guess , is not the right word since I saw the bottle of fish food zoomed afloat when I released it). I stayed closer to DM Dennis during the ascent and I noticed that he was holding a pack-ful of fish food so hundreds of fishes came towards us. It was almost impossible to see through them as there were just so many fishes right infront of my face. I moved my way farther from the fish crowd and came near my buddy, Grace. Before I could signal anything to her, she put out her fish food (which she had tucked inside her BCD) and then again hundreds of fishes rushed to where we were. It was a cool sight, seeing all those fishes in different sizes and colors so close to our faces (Geez, I even tried to catch them but I cannot even touch one!) Grace and I tossed the bottle of fish food several times and we enjoyed watching as more and more fishes gathered in front of us teasingly. After fish feeding, me and my buddy glided around the site together (holding hands at times, because our “watchers” were very strict that they call our attention immediately if we get far from them by 10 feet! We had fun taking pictures as a group in the platform (Al Bilad’s) and Eric also took several videos of us gliding through the stunning clear waters of the Red Sea with its hundreds of thousands different species of marine life (too bad I do not know their names yet! Argh!!!) Finally, just before we ascend, I saw a rare white spotted brown Pacific Angel shark and a very big black eel along. FOUR DIVES WRAPPED UP! At the end of our last dive for that weekend in Jeddah, I found myself convinced that all the efforts, time, money spent for a dive trip was well worth it. The Red Sea never runs out of ambiguity and for a new diver like me, it is the unknown that kept me thrilled and excited on every diving adventure. To say that I have overly enjoyed our recent four dives in the Red Sea, Jeddah will not be enough to explain how much I really liked it- not only because of the breathtaking splendor underwater—but most importantly because every dive presents a unique experience for me- and most of the time- it breaks off boundaries within me that I never thought I could. Reaching a depth that no ordinary people usually arrive at gives me the feeling that I could conquer my fears…and that I could always find something beautiful in just about anything. It’s a liberating feeling… a humble, yet wonderful achievement. For most people who know me since I was young (I have always been a weakling when I was growing up…and I was always the “scared one” who didn’t want to go anywhere dark or quiet”). But now, when I think about places I’ve been, creatures I’ve seen and depths I’ve reached—I smile….knowing that the little scared weakling had finally gotten better off more than enough. My Little Big Ate
Last night, I had a hard time when I was reviewing Alia for her Final Quarter Exam in Math. It was a struggle for me because I know that Math has never been her favorite subject in school plus I observed that she was not in her usual good mood to study. I tried to be calm and extra patient but she didn’t buy it. Although, I realized that I must have been putting unnecessary pressure on my 5 year old daughter, I still insisted on her. In my mind, I thought that she had to benefit from the review because she didn’t make good enough on the two previous long tests in Math. This final exam is her last chance to maintain her grade in Math at least. She recalled most of their lessons from first to third quarter but she seemed confused with adding and subtracting although I explained to her several times. As I repeated further, all the more she got puzzled. Finally, she put her pencil down, looked intently at me and said: “Ma, did your mommy teach you your lesson when you were going to school?” I was shocked, but before I could answer her, she said, “Ma, I already learned this subtraction last week from my teacher…and now, you got me all confused!” Then she sobbed. It broke my heart seeing my daughter so upset (because of me). I hugged her tight and explained to her that I was only trying to help her so she would do well on her exam. She looked at me again, and said, “Okay, you want me to get good grade… but how will I remember all these things when I am so tired and sleepy and you are shouting at me at the same time?” I was dumbfounded. Boy, how could I be so naïve?! I stood up and told her I would get her a glass of milk from the kitchen. It was more of an “escape’ than a temporary relief for me. When I got back, Alia had composed herself back (or was it I who did so?). I tried to be more relaxed with her. I gave her more time to think and do the practice tests mostly by herself. It has been a rough week for us since our housemaid unexpectedly left. Since then, we were trying to get a replacement but we were not lucky. For me, it means a heavily taxing week: laundry, cooking, cleaning, babysitting, tutoring Alia (thank God it’s her last week at school this week), plus plus plus. It also means no badminton, no brisk walking with friends, no workout, no malling, no shopping. To top it all, I have a regular 8 hour work in the office and a two hour part time work every other day. Somebody up there might as well turn me a Superwoman soon! So, early morning on weekdays, while Alia goes to school, we drop Aisha to a day care/ babysitter. She never liked the idea and so we had to force her to stay there. Alia joins her at the same place after her morning class. I spared myself from having to go through this dilemma so I asked Eric to drop Aisha by to leave her. Yesterday, I decided to leave work early and go to the day care/ babysitter to check on Alia and Aisha. They were both asleep when I reached the place. I counted 11 kids in one room. Four of them were older than Alia, five were almost in the same age as Aisha. I saw one boy locked in a seat carrier which was tied up near a huge cabinet. I asked the girls why the boy was placed like that and one of them told me that he is naughty and that is punishment for him. I witnessed how the little boy tried to squeeze himself out from the seat carrier and he stumbled many times, hurting himself. I tried to help him but the rope was tight. Then I asked the attendant to release him (as he was obviously hurt and very uncomfortable), but she just shrugged it off. She said that indeed, the boy is very naughty and if he gets free from the chair, he would mess up with other kids. So I sat in the corner of the room. Although Alia and Aisha were still sleeping, I wished Eric would come to pick us up immediately but he was busy at work. While other kids were playing in and out of the room, Alia woke up. When she saw me, she rushed towards me and hugged me. She asked if I’m done from work and if I came to pick them up. I told her yes and she said she wanted to stay for another 10 minutes to play with the other kids. I nodded at her. Then after a while, Aisha also woke up. When she saw me, she run towards me and cried. In between sobs, she told me that her Papa left her in that place since morning and he didn’t come back to get her. She asked me if we could then to go home. Suddenly, the other kids, came inside the room carrying some toys. They wanted to play restaurant make-believe. I noticed that the boy (who was tied up) struggled to stand and reach a toy-ice cream which one of the older girls were holding. Immediately, the girl kicked him. In disbelief, I stood up and pulled the girl’s hand.. but another girl beat the boy’s head and the other kids followed. The poor boy covered his face with his hands and started to cry.. but the other kids continue to hit him. I heard Alia shouting: “Hey!! Stop, stop! (she pushed the other kids away from the boy)..Don’t hurt him!” She shouted. The other kids stopped and looked at her, puzzled. I saw Alia reached for the boy and put her arms around him, as if trying to protect him. “He’s just a baby! Don’t hurt him!” she told the other kids. Sounding irritated, one of the girls blurted, “HMP! (pointing her finger at Alia) Jan ka na nga! Wag ka ng makikipaglaro sa min!!!” (“You stay there, don’t play with us anymore!”) Then she stormed out of the room and the other kids followed behind her like an army. Although Alia looked upset (upon hearing that the older girls told her she could not play with them again), she tried to comfort the little boy. I noticed that Aisha had clutched herself beside me more tightly. She looked at me and then to Alia, but she didn’t say anything. I knew she was as shocked as me and confused… I often think that Alia is tougher than any girls her age. I mean for a girl, she’s not as refined as my family thought I was when I was little. But this girl’s heart is amazing. Her compassion exudes from her small built and would inspire any adult she gets a chance to talk with- that is, of course, when she’s in good mood. While I was forcing her to get good grades at school, I may have missed my daughter’s sensitivity and sometimes, her right of being a child. I always need to be reminded to let her take her time and develop her skills, academic and otherwise, at her own pace—no forcing—because I, for one, was never forced in any way to do what I don’t want to do—neither at school or at home. At the end of the day, I realized that my daughters, with the special bonding we have right now, share with me the burden of us living abroad apart from most loved ones and family. We all get tired, stressed, upset, and reach almost- giving up -moments at certain times. But standing for what we think is right, and carrying on the values we learned from our family and the generations before us, no matter if odds are against us, would definitely be a great advantage as we meet and deal with people of all races, ages, and religion in this foreign land—for only God knows until when our stay here lasts. DRAWING DOWN THE CURTAINS
I had been trying to call my Dad’s phone for the nth time and he won’t pick up… at times his phone wouldn’t even ring or the signal would drop. I kept trying because I wanted to talk to him. After almost an hour, he finally answered my call. He told me that he was in the hospital where my Lola was confined due to severe bleeding ulcer. I recognized the unusual sad tone in his voice and as I expected, before his voice would have cracked, he passed the phone to my Mom. I am pretty sure that my Dad is probably more emotional than any other dad my friends do have. I must have inherited “emo” genes from him, by the way. Although they had some minor misunderstandings before, my Lola and my Dad went along very well. And for my Dad who lost his own mother when he was still young, he has treated my Lola (Mom’s mother) like his own mother since he married my Mom. I found out that Dad grew very sad when he saw my grandmother in the hospital and he talked to her but she did not recognize him. The doctor informed them that my Lola’s memory was failing and she’ll have memory lapses more often …gearing to the possibility of complete memory loss as a result of her old age, disease, and the stress that comes in between. I suddenly recall the time when Eric was talking to his Dad who was then confined in a hospital in US for liver cirrhosis. That month, Eric was in constant communication with his family because of his Dad’s condition. When he finally talked to him, I heard Eric said, “Daddy, si Eric nga ito…yung anak mo dito sa Saudi!.....” I heard him trying to remind his Dad about himself… occasions when they were together…places they’ve both gone to, and people they both knew… to no avail. When he put down the phone, I was standing close to him (waiting for him to say something) and he just looked at me for a while. I asked him if he was okay (I didn’t know what to say too!). He said, “Hindi na talaga ako maalala ni Daddy… Hindi nya daw ako kilala.” It broke my heart seeing my husband so sad and I didn’t know what to do or what to say, so I just hugged him. I told him that everything will be okay and I’m sure that his Dad will eventually recover from his disease through God’s will. I also tried to convince him that his Dad will remember him again. But sometimes, those we love so dearly are taken from us too soon. A few weeks later after that call, ten days before Eric’s birthday in 2006, Daddy Boy passed away. My grandmother’s failing memory struck me because it is, so far, the closest incident I have heard in our family. I kept wondering how it would have been like…if I was there visiting her in the hospital. Will she remember me as her “apo”? Will she even recall my name? Will she tell us all the birthday details of everyone in the family? Will she be happy to see us and give her blessing when we make “mano”? I would have loved to see her cheerful and lively liked she used to be. At this moment, her health is slipping away and precious memory is regressing with it. From Patti Davis writing about his Father, Ronald Reagan in The Long Goodbye, “I suppose none of us know how we will grow silent, slip away from this life – or when. It happens in God’s time, not ours, and we grow quiet”. Right now, I’m just praying that God would keep my grandmother safe… and of course, happy. I WANNA GROW OLD WITH YOU
I WANNA GROW OLD WITH YOU (Song and Lyrics by Adam Sandler) I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad. Carry you around when your arthritis is bad. Oh, all I wanna do, is grow old with you. I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches, Build you a fire when the furnace breaks. Oh, it could be so nice, growin' old with you. I'll miss you, kiss you, Give you my coat when you are cold, Need you, feed you. I'll even let you hold the remote control. So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink. Oh I could be the [wo]man who grows old with you. I wanna grow old with you. Well, I guess almost everyone has heard about this song from TheWedding Singer (Adam Sandler/ Drew Barrymore). For a few who might have missed it, I supposed you can easily search it in YouTube if you haven’t come across some animated version of it from Facebook yet. I was talking with a close friend earlier and our usual silly jokes towards each other turned to a more serious topic of getting old. He told me that he is, indeed, afraid to grow old alone. There was a sad tone in his voice as he went on telling me how much time he had spent in his life being focused in his career. Now, at 32, he realized that he has been getting much older ALONE…and he has suddenly become afraid to be on his own until his retirement. For most people who are unmarried or those who do not have children of their own, planning a successful retirement may be quite bothersome. Of course, there may always be nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters around, but having a family of your own-with a husband/ wife and children to be with, provides an easier, if not the best, course to a blissful senescence , simply because you are almost guaranteed of not being alone in the process. However, marrying someone does not give you a hundred percent assurance of a happy old age with your wife/husband, although for some lucky couples, it may be a good start. I was inspired by a verse from co-blogger, Jocelyn Soriano, as it goes: Growing old together, being wrinkled and cozy and warm at the same time. Knowing that after all the years that passed, some things remain, the most important things do. You have each other, and you look forward to each day as you have looked forward to each one before… with great anticipation and joy. You have traveled the world together, and yet you still see things as though you were seeing it for the first time. You have been tested, and you have been victorious. See how sweet your victory is – for no young love could ever compare to two souls that have danced a lifetime. Heaven. More than a month ago, while I was talking with my Mom over the phone, I heard my Dad’s voice in the background, as if he was asking Mom for something (it was his car key that he couldn’t find that time). Mom excused herself from me and asked if I wanted to hang up the phone while she helps Dad find what he was searching for. I told Mom I’d wait (although I didn’t have much to tell her anymore coz we already talked for more than fifteen minutes, but I wanted to hear what they were talking about…and how they go through the “key searching” process). I heard my Dad shouting, as he had obviously become impatient because they couldn’t find the key. Mom insisted that she placed it on the drawer and Dad was saying that he did not take it. So, there were some banging, falling, and slamming and still, they did not find the bloody key. My Dad kept shouting. He picked up the phone and said,”HELLO!HELLO! MEMEN!!! TUMAWAG KA NA LANG ULIT MAMAYA AT HINDI MAHANAP NG INAY ANG SUSI!”. I asked Dad to calm down and to take it easy on my Mom, and then I hung up. As I put the phone down, I looked at the clock on the wall. It was 1:30pm here (Riyadh) and it’s 6:30pm in Philippines. Probably, it was already dark in our place, and I thought that if Dad happened to leave the key outside the house, in the garage or in our small kubo outside, it would be quite impossible for them to find it then. I was almost certain that if they don’t find the key at once, then it would result to a sleepless night for my old parents. At 64, my Dad could hardly see without his eye glasses especially at night. There was a big lump on my chest as I waited for thirty minutes to pass by. Then I called again. Mom: Hello, sino ‘to? Me: Mommy, si Memen to! Anong balita jan?? Mom: Ay naku Ineng, nahanap din namin ang susi ng van. Me: Talaga ho? Hala, salamat naman. Haysst. (I breathed out a sigh of relief.) San nyo ho nahanap?? Mom: Dun sa hinubad na short ng Tatay. Sabi ko na nga ba at ginamit nya kanina ang susi.. Kaya lang sabi naman nya ay natingnan na daw nya dun sa lamugan (*lagayan ng mga maruming damit*. Me: Ah, Mommy, na-mislook nya lang pala…Hay…si daddy talaga… Mom: Ano pa nga ba?! Yang matandang yan! Hay naku! Napaka sungit eh sha naman itong laging makakalimutin!!! Tapos sa akin pa hinahanap lahat ng gamit nya..mantalang sha naman ang laging gumagamit…tapos pag nawala, sa akin hahanapin!!! Pagsabihan nyo nga yang tatay nyo!...... There were still some other complaints from my Mom but I could not remember them all, until I heard my Dad’s voice while he came towards my Mom. Dad: Sino yan, Inay? (He sounded far softer than how he was talking to her an hour ago) Mom: Si Memen…. (pause) O, kausapin mo! (she gave the phone to my Dad) Me: Daddy! Kamusta???( I tried to make my voice sound cheerful). Daddy: Ay di ayos! Nahanap na ang susi.. Me: Sinong nakahanap??? Hahahaha (I teased him). Daddy: Ay di ang Inay mo…hehe (He was cheerful..and I heard he laughed.) (I bet my Mom was standing near to him, and he was teasing her also. ) Me: Yan..kasi naman…tsktsktsk… Sabi ni Mommy ansungit mo daw eh. Hay naku daddy…easy..easy easy! Blah. Blah. Blah! When I hung up for the second time, I felt relieved. The tension was over and I was thankful that it was a quick one. Thank God for showing the car key! … In a conversation with a high school friend, I asked her why she chose to remain “single” at the age of 33. She came from a well off family in Mindoro, and she is already a successful civil engineer. Our chat went like this: Kris: I’ve met several men and I had some relationships in the past, but none of the guys I’ve known fitted in the criteria I have. Me: So, there should always be huge criteria to select a partner? If you click together, isn’t it all that matters? Kris: I only dreamt of finding a partner who would understand me and accept me for who I am. Me: A perfect husband? Kris: No, certainly not. I never asked God for a perfect husband- just somebody who would appreciate me, and somebody who will look forward to growing old with me. But I was not able to feel that—at least not with any men I met before. Perhaps somebody up there had planned something for me otherwise. Me: Well, I hope you find him. There’s never too late for true love for anyone, right? Kris: I know. Thanks ‘Men. ... In our lives, choosing whether to be alone or to be with somebody to grow old with is a personal decision. It is however mandatory that we choose a certain path, because growing old, like death, is inevitable. So while we can, as long as WE still can, we need to focus on investing for a happy, successful retirement, alone or otherwise. My point is that, if finding the right partner becomes impossible, then maybe, we should try being the right partner for someone. I’m happy for my parents that they complement each other almost perfectly. (On a sad note that right now, being far from them, I very seldom witness this magical experience unfold before my eyes). My Dad, being strict and harsh and my Mom being cheerful and carefree. Of course, there’s a lot of fighting and shouting along the way (everyday!!!), but ultimately, they eat every single meal together, sleep together on the same one bed every night, and they wake up every single day, happy to see each other. For a daughter like me, it’s one of the greatest blessings I receive from God, and I’m thankful of it every day. I hope and pray that their love (although they sometimes call it “tolerance”) for each other will outlast their age…and that the ever good God give them more years of togetherness… with us. As for me, when the time comes that I no longer can write a blog, I’ll let you know how much I appreciate growing old with you because… I know you’d be there for me when I feel down- to comfort me, to assure me that things would be okay even if they don’t seem so… I know you would hug me when I’m scared because I’ll keep you warm when you feel cold...I know you would think I’m beautiful because you always assure me that you like the way I look….I know you’d be proud of me because I would always show off your achievements to my friends….I know you’d to talk to me when something’s bothering you because I will always be there when you need someone to listen to you….I know you’d make me smile because I will always make sure that you are happy with me…. It will be a two-way relationship. You and me together, giving and sharing. After all, you taught me that perfection can only be achieved by two hearts beating as one... turning on each other for strength and comfort. When our kids find their own successful lives with our guidance, then it will be you and me, together, alone, AGAIN. At the end of the day, I could perhaps play the song by Adam Sandler and let you feel how blessed I am to share the rest of my life with you. I was doing my usual routine in the office when I suddenly received an email from my sister in UAE. She sent me a picture taken recently during our parents’ tour outside Philippines. The shot was so vivid- my Mom and Dad were sitting next to each other, with my Dad’s arm around my Mom’s shoulders. There was no caption or anything (my eldest sister’s too lazy to even put the date or any other information about the picture).
I suddenly felt tears rolling down my cheeks. A sudden rush of guilt filled my heart. Perhaps, it was such a feeling of longing- for the parents I am missing so much and with whom I have missed to spend time with. I asked myself how could they have become so old, so fast, and how could I have let it pass my eyes. Then I simply understood why I started to sob… For many years, my parents are left in our hometown in Mindoro with only my 7 year old nephew. Their kids, all four of us, are in separate parts of the world trying our lucks with our own different lives. Of course, they miss us. No amount of phone calls could compensate to the absence of people we love. During holidays, their birthdays, or even when they get sick, they’re alone with themselves and it sounds and feels terrible from both sides. It is indeed disturbing…. and to say it is sad, is an understatement. Because as I look at the picture and see those two persons smiling boldly infront of me, I also get to notice those 2 pairs of eyes yearning for their children’s presence. A Night Before New Year’s Eve
It was a quarter past midnight and I was still halfway done through cooking some desserts for our New Year get-together the next day. I had been working in the kitchen for almost four consecutive hours and the whole place was already in chaos. I looked at the clock and I told myself I need to finish so I could rest. Suddenly, I was surprised to see my two year old daughter, Aisha, standing near the kitchen door, holding her small Mini Mouse stuffed toy, she was staring at me. I could tell that she must have been standing there for quite some time without me knowing it. I stopped and slowly approached her. I noticed that her eyes were red, probably from feeling very sleepy but was fighting it off. “Ma..”, she murmured. I bent down towards her and touched her face. “Yes…baby???”, I asked. “Karga…tsaka kanta…please???” (She wanted me to carry her and sing for her a lullaby). My heart melted… I was so busy the whole day preparing gifts and food for friends, (I earlier asked my kids not to disturb while doing so) that I have ignored this little darling… and she had been patiently waiting for me to finish what I was doing before she ask me to attend to her! How could I forget that this girl deserves my attention before any gift or any food for anyone else? I hugged her and carried her. She hugged me back so tightly and kissed me on my cheek before she put her head on my shoulder. On our way to bed, I saw our reflection on the mirror in our bedroom. I noticed that Aisha already fell asleep. I quietly put her down on the bed and kissed her gently on her forehead.. My little girl… my baby. Watching her sleep and hearing her soft snore was priceless. It was all I needed to realize that no one deserves my attention more than my family… ever. A THOUGHT OF CHRISTMAS AND A WISH FROM THE HEART
I closed my eyes and deeply wished that sleep would come to me. It has been almost two weeks of countless activities, stress and pressures. I started to feel exhausted -physically. My soul was also weary and my mind was on the edge. Then suddenly, I was brought back to a scene in the past, in a place so dear to me. I was sitting on the couch, infront of the TV in our house in Mindoro! Ate Mylene showed up from the kitchen and asked me to taste the spaghetti she cooked, “Oi Memen, tikman mo nga yung spaghetti..baka may kulang pa sa timpla ko…”. I smiled and followed her to our small kitchen. I saw Ate Len washing some dishes and she said,” Ang kulit ni Ate Mylene eh…sabi ng OK na yung lasa…ayaw pa maniwala sa kin”. I just looked at her and smiled. I knew that my eldest sister wanted a second opinion. She had always wanted to make things as accurate as possible- as perfect as she could. As usual, My Ate Mylene’s spaghetti was great. I watched as she put a serving on a big Tupperware bowl and placed it on our wooden dining table, beside a bottle of Coke Litro. “Hintayin lang natin si Tatay..tapos saka natin gisingin si Bimbo..para sabay-sabay na tayong kumain..” She informed me and Ate Len. It was a few hours before Christmas Eve, almost fifteen years ago… While waiting for our Dad who was on duty that night (he was a policeman and he was assigned in the other town), I went to our terrace and stared at the “belen” (“Belen” , or a crèche- is a miniature nativity scene, depicting the birth of Jesus Christ). Comparing to most belen’s I’ve seen from my rich friends’ house and some of our neighbors, I noticed that ours was very simple. My Dad constructed it from some leftover “pawid” from our kubo..and we put the same “characters” from our previous belen in the past. The giant star was almost fading- in contrast to the original story’s brightness and shine. There were also, obviously, some missing characters in our own nativity scene.. the angel was absent, and one of the three kings wouldn’t stand… oh, and there was no shepherd on our belen too! In spite of the simplicity, I couldn’t help but admire how my Dad diligently put up the wooden structure. My Dad.. he always wanted us to enjoy Christmas and that included decorating our small house with colorful lights and either recycled or improvised ornaments from past seasons. While standing at the terrace, my Ate Len approached me and asked what I was thinking. I told her that I was trying to figure out why we missed putting a shepherd or two in our belen. She grinned and joked that most likely the shepherd went home early to cook his food for the Noche Buena. Then she advised me not to worry coz he’d probably be back in the morning too. After a few more minutes, we heard my Dad’s footsteps and we rushed inside the house to call Ate Mylene and Bimbo (who just woke up in time) and inform them that Dad has already arrived. All together, the four of us welcomed our Dad and we rushed to him to kiss his hand (nag-mano). My Ate Mylene took the sliced loaf bread still in the plastic from my Dad’s hand and he motioned her to put it on the dining table. Then he went inside their bedroom to change his clothes. While he was inside the bedroom, all four of us sat on the sofa at the living room without talking. I knew then that we were all thinking of the same thing: “How come Dad didn’t bring us Christmas gifts?? Could he have forgotten them somewhere? Or was he planning to give us our gifts the next morning? So upon my Dad’s signal that we’ll eat our late dinner that night (just before midnight), we took our seat on the dining set. There was nothing more than the spaghetti that Ate Mylene cooked, a bottle of Coke, and whole sliced bread. “O, kain na tayo!” my Dad blurted out. We smiled at each other and greeted ourselves a Merry Christmas. While eating together, my Ate Len looked at me, as if forcing me to ask Dad where our gifts were. I felt a nudge under the table..probably from Ate Mylene or Ate Len…because they want me to speak out and ask Dad. I have always been the “brave” one- the speaker among the four of us. I looked at my Dad, trying to come up with a good way to ask him for our gifts. When my Dad caught me looking at him, he asked me what I want. Dad: “Anong sasabihin mo??” Me: “Ah…eh…kasi…” Dad: “Ano nga??” Me: “Kasi di ba pasko?! Bat wala kaming regalo???” Dad: “Sinong nagsabi na wala kayong regalo?? At palagay nyo, pwede ba kayong mawalan ng regalo sa pasko??? Hindi yata pwede!” There was a loud cheer from all four of us. Yehey!!!! May regalo!!!--- pero nasaan kaya??? My Dad stood up and asked us to follow him to the living room beside our small Christmas tree. Eagerly and almost impatiently waiting for a “surprise”, we all sat on the sofa set. Still no gifts. At last, I could not wait any longer and I went to Dad and demanded: ”Asan na ang regalo namin???!!!”. Laughing, my Dad asked us to go and get our gifts from the terrace. At the “belen” the gifts were! Running outside and bumping each other in excitement, we rushed to the belen (almost breaking it). There were four white envelopes each has a name outside. Mylene..Len..Memen..Bimbo. Five hundred pesos for each of us from our Dad! Puzzled, anxious, and excited with the rather strange gift we received (it was the first time that we received “cash” for Christmas), we went inside the house to thank our Dad. He knew that we were surprised with our “gifts”- the cash, so he informed us that he wanted us to start being responsible and to differentiate what we need from what we want. He told us that he expects us to buy whatever we need/want with the money, being responsible enough to spend it on we can use. He added that the amount was from him and our Mom… My Dad’s voice cracked at the mention of my mother’s name. “Inay” as we call her, was working abroad (Saudi Arabia) and she had not spent Christmas with us for many years. We missed her and there was no doubt that my Dad missed her the most. Dad: “Syempre, gusto ng “Inay” na umuwi para makasama sana tayo ngayong Pasko…kaya lang, mahal ang pamasahe…kaya sa halip na ipapamasahe nya yung sweldo nya, iipunin na lang nya para sa sunod na bakasyon ay makapag enroll sa college si Mylene at si Lenlen. “Hmp! Lagi na lang ganyan si Mama pag pasko.. lagi naman wala! Laging sinasabi na darating sha..pero hindi naman pala!”. That was my brother, Bimbo. “Ano ka ba?! Kaya nga nagtitiis ang Inay na magtrabaho dahil para sa ating lahat…tapos ganyan pa ang sinasabi mo!” replied my eldest sister, Ate Mylene, while giving Bimbo a stern look as if ordering him to keep quiet. I saw tears fell down my Dad’s eyes and my Ate Len also started to cry. We missed our Mom and there was no denying that fact. Soon, we were all sobbing. My Dad stood up, his voice still shaking and tears still falling from his eyes, he asked us to go to bed so we could wake up early the next day to attend Holy Mass together. He went inside their room and my brother tagged along with him. Without saying a word, Ate Mylene and Ate Len went to the kitchen. I watched as my two sisters started cleaning the dining area and washing the dishes from our Noche Buena. I noticed that Ate Len was still crying. Ate Mylene: “Oi Bolens, tama na naman yang pag iyak mo.. mahahawa na naman kami ni Memen sa kakaiyak mo eh!” Ate Len: “Hindi ko nga mapigilan eh..Sino bang gusto umiyak ng umiyak? Kaso ayaw tumigil ng luha ko!” There was a short discussion among the three of us until we went to our bedroom where we lie on the bed next to each other. Ate Len covered herself completely with a blanket but I still could hear her sobbing. I wanted to comfort her, but then I thought that crying would give her relief of some sort. After reminding me that I should wake up early for the Holy Mass, Ate Mylene fell asleep immediately. Right there, lying between my two sisters, I whispered a short prayer and asked God to grant my family’s Christmas wishes. Present Date: December 2010 I received this message on my Facebook Inbox from Ate Len: Len Mendoza (Wednesday at 5:39pm): Nkkatawa lang haaay.. Pagktapos msg ko sa u knina nahiga na ko to watch tv.. Pilit ako ngpapaantok kc gusto ko maaga mgsing bukas.. Nanonood ako at madami din tumatakbo sa utak ko at alam ko nalulungkot ako.. Kaya simpleng drama sa mara clara nadala ko.. I jst found myself wiping my tears.. At imortal na eh naiiyak pa din ako.. Ang hirap mkipaglaban sa takbo ng buhay but I thank God for having u all as my family!! Ending-- I'm just missing d whole family celebrating together joyfully the yuletide season!! Kamusta nmn party bukas maga mata ko!!I'm still proud to say I have the best family!miss u all! I am not a fan of teleserye’s and I don’t have any idea on the story of Mara Clara lately, so I don’t know why she said that she cried a lot while watching it. However, I perfectly understand why she’s missing the whole family celebrating together. How could I not feel sad when I have exactly the same feeling? Yesterday, I was chatting with my sister in UAE and when I asked her where on earth can we find a Merry Christmas these days, she replied, “..saan may meri xmas??? Syempre sa mga puso natin, sis!”.. I knew it was a joke half meant. When my Mom retired from her 14 year job in Saudi Arabia as an X-ray technician, I graduated from the university and I found a job in Manila. For a couple of years, we spent yuletide season together as a family in Mindoro. We bring friends from Manila to spend Christmas with us, and we always had a lot relatives and friends visiting us during Christmas and New Year. Now I realized that nothing beats spending Christmas at home- with the entire family. It’s one Filipino tradition that I am proud of. However, no doubt, I have overlooked it before. I miss the cold wind of December in Mindoro. It’s heartwarming and relaxing although it has never been any colder than the winter air here in Riyadh or at any place I’ve been. I miss attending Simbang Gabi with my Lola in Mindoro and going to the church in Manila with Jake. I miss the puto bumbong, bibingka, and the “manang” who was selling those delicacies right outside the Sto Nino Cathedral. She used to give me extra puto bumbong whenever I asked her to. I miss the long queue in GE Grocery store and then in Citimart in Calapan—don’t we Filipinos love last minute Christmas shopping! I miss those little kids from the neighborhood with their empty milk cans and barbecue sticks on their own rendition of classic Jingle Bells. I miss my Ate Mylene wrapping our choices for school’s exchange gifts. I miss Ate Len always giving us the most expensive gifts! I miss Bimbo who always receives the most number of presents. I miss the big Santa Clause banner we used to put in our terrace and whereby we hang those socks for Santa to put on our gifts. I miss the warm hugs from my Dad and his cheerful dance on Christmas Days. I miss my Mom cooking her “broasted” chicken recipe which she learned by heart during the many years of her work in Saudi Arabia. I miss my Dad’s humba, caldereta, pastel and menudo. I miss Ate Mylene’s spaghetti and pancit…Ate Len’s magical fruit salad and Bimbo’s pulutan. There’s just an endless list of people and things that I really do miss. Until realized that believing on a Christmas wish was one of them. So, four days before Christmas, I am convincing myself to believe, once more, that Christmas wishes do come true, although of course, I’m not pretty sure if I could have even a slight glimpse of the Christmas star on Christmas Eve as to where I should whisper my wish at. Nonetheless, I’ll keep it in my heart for the meantime. It’s a single wish I have- a fervent one that is… I’m not gonna spill it out to anyone…not just yet. *************************************END************************************** Please do visit my previous blogs at: http://medylene.blog.friendster.com SHAHIDA
I knew she was apprehensive when she joined our department. She didn’t have any background in Pharmacy. She was a dark, petite lady from India who came to Riyadh to be with her husband. I befriended her without any hesitation and she was so thankful to me. She often praised me for being so gracious and accommodating to her. Whenever she sees me in the hospital or near their accommodation, she used to introduce me to her friends and relatives, saying that I am the kindest and probably the best Filipina she ever met in her life. Indeed, she was so proud of me that she even took our pictures together to India and showed it off to her family and friends. When she heard the news that I was leaving the hospital we were working at, she approached me and held my hand tightly, her hands were cold. I felt slightly awkward when she started to cry, telling me that she will miss me terribly and that she felt I was leaving her alone at the workplace. If it was for any consolation, I assured her that I’d stay in Riyadh and she could always call me anytime of the day. It was an ordinary friendship- the kind you make with people at the workplace but you keep even after you transferred to another job…but it was special because our differences in color, race, beliefs, and religion made us both interested to learn more from each other and appreciate what we both have in common. It is not very often that we meet people in our lives who believe in us, accept us for what we are, trust what we say, and love us like a family. It is through those seldom meetings that we learn how to value people and what difference they make in our lives. Yesterday, I was shocked when I heard the news that she passed away. My hands felt numb… and I sensed a splash of cold wind all over me. The sad part was that the consultant doctors from the hospital where we both worked at, failed to identify her heart disease so she was not treated in any way. Wherever she is right now, I hope and pray that she finds relief and happiness—that kind of bliss she never had in her life before. To Shahida, I will always remember you, and I will miss you. Thank you for being a friend, for calling me a sister, and for looking up to me as a mentor. Children and My Taz Profile Picture
One late Wednesday evening, while me and my two little girls are tucked on the bed ( we were waiting for Eric to declare “lights off”- a signal that the three of us (Me, Alia and Aisha) should already sleep**meaning: close our eyes and stop making any noise*), I asked my five year old daughter, Alia, what she wants for Christmas. Looking surprised, she asked me if she can wish for anything and if it will happen or if I will give it to her. Playfully, I nodded and assured her that she can make a Christmas wish and it will come true. She smiled mysteriously and I noticed how she thought for a while before she blurted out: “Candies! I wish I have lots of candies for Christmas!”. The next morning, I opened my Facebook account and I noticed that most of my friends’ profile pictures were some cartoon characters. I clicked a friend’s name and I saw this post on her status message: ” Change your profile picture to a cartoon from your childhood and invite your friends to do the same. Until Monday there should be no human faces on Facebook, but an invasion of memories. This is a campaign to stop violence against children.” I smiled to myself, thinking that the post may be one “meme” among others that have been popularly spreading across Facebook and other social networking sites. **(The term, “meme” or “internet meme” is used to describe either a concept or cultural ideas, symbols or practices, which can be transmitted from one mind to another through writing, speech, gestures or most commonly via the internet.) Nonetheless, I still checked my collection of cartoon character images and decided to post a picture of Taz, the Tasmanian Devil (my sweet, devil-ish alter ego) from Looney Tunes. After four seconds (that fast!), a friend “liked” my profile picture and after a few more minutes, I read from my News Feed that 28 among my Facebook friends changed their profile pictures like I did. I couldn’t help but grin on that. Two days after I borrowed a face from Taz for my Facebook profile, I was not surprised to see almost all my friends having the same cartoon-style profile photos. Some of them had some rather very old (*when I said “old”, I wanted to mean that I haven’t seen those cartoon characters during my early childhood years *) cartoon characters while most came up with any one from a long list of adorable and cute princesses, fairies, superheroes and others. Then, I started wondering how many, among my friends, could have possibly read the embedded message on the “post” (calling) about the campaign to stop violence against children. Many, I hoped. Most of us have, in one way or another, either witness or heard a story, in any form, of violence against children. Around the world, across different beliefs and sometimes, idiosyncrasies, millions of children are continuously abused, exploited, trafficked, abandoned, forcefully gotten married with, beaten, terrorized and killed. For me, it is a very simple issue though: hitting (or hurting) people is wrong and children are people too. What’s equally depressing is the fact that, inside some families, children sometimes become miserable subjects of an old dogma, so-called “allowable punishments” from their parents. A number of parents run the risk of abusing their parental role and inflicting harm on their children. Personally, I adhere to the notion that I should become capable of honestly experiencing myself in the shoes of my child while taking a disciplinary action. I also insist this matter to Eric, who, sometimes, has a different corrective “style” than me. I remember reading an article months ago about international advocacies focused on preventing violence against children, how the UN carried out a comprehensive, global study (following on from the previous global study that had looked at the particular impact of armed conflict on children) some years back. The key message of the human rights-based gesture is that no violence against children is justifiable and that all violence is preventable. Through channeled reports, member nations conducted interview research with children and parents where children may feel empowered to speak out more about their experiences in their homes and schools. Unsurprisingly, children tell us how much “routine” violence, and adults’ acceptance of it, hurts them, not just physically – but also how badly it hurts them “inside. Children are human beings. They are different than adults but they are equally valuable in the society to function well. We, adults, should learn from their meekness, innocence, simplicity and honesty. Whether the Facebook-cartoon profile picture was merely another internet “meme” or a real campaign against violence on children, I hope that everyone learns a lesson or two from that “post”. We all have been a little child before and we know how essential it was for us to be cared for, nurtured, and loved. It is our “calling” to do the same to all other children around us-whether they are part of our family or not. As a Mom of two little girls, I don’t have the exact words to describe how proud I am of them and how blessed my life has been since I have them...but I can only share the joy of having kids and how beautiful and complete my life is, with them around. That’s freaking way too far from being a “Taz” myself eh?! Oh, and by the way, this morning, on our way to Alia’s school, she told me that she changed her mind about her Christmas wish… she said that she didn’t want candies anymore … instead, she wants either an iPhone or a Laptop. |
HappinessWhat makes me happy?
People. Everyone around me who believes and inspires me. Life itself is a happy experience. The world is a happy place. I had my own share of struggles, life was not easy for us back then but my Dad taught me how to believe in myself, work hard , be kind and to be strong. He inspired me to go out of my comfort zone. He used to tell me that the possibilities in life are endless and so I believed him. l Iost him quite a few years ago but he has left me with so much inspiration to follow my dreams - to visit places I have only dreamt of or have seen in the movies when I was little and to do things I thought were only for the privileged few. Wherever I go, I always remember my Dad, wishing he could see me from afar and somehow be proud of me as I have always been so proud of him. Life is short and I promised him that I would make the most of mine. Travelling makes me happy and in all other things, I choose happiness. We all should- always.. Memen Archives
May 2024
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