The days were stumbling against each other, each determined to be the one that is remembered, recalled, reminisced, and talked about. The flowers are wilted, the vase water is murky, stems rotting from soaking in the water, accepting defeat, having seen glory days, it’s time to retire. Those were the Passover flowers from T’s mom, she brought them on Maundy Thursday, that was a long time ago. A lot has transpired since then, but that day will always be remembered.
I have been browsing food blogs by Pinoys and was totally enjoying them, having my daily fill of Market Man, the scent of green bananas, desert comes first, and lasang pinoy. In between that Mark was at a standstill, he waiting if his love will say yes.
That got me distracted from the general factotom, the humdrum of life. I was beset with these quiet anxieties coloring my days. No, nothing grave, I guess it goes back to the responsibilities of my existence.
Anyhow, there really is no point in going back and overanalyzing things. I chose not to, I remember as a kid (prekindergarte) I used to agonize if I am going to make the right choice of finding my mom in sea of people looking like her. I was imagining that my love for her will guide me in finding her amidst the seeming clones (cloning was probably just an idea at that time). I probably was an unloved kid to have that much drama.
I would have talked about a friend of mine who is undergoing such trial, but I didn’t want to diminish his existence into a mere read. That’s why you don’t get details here, I want you just get a whiff of it, maintaining what’s private and kept in it’s place.
I am undergoing PT good thing the person taking care of me is nice and gentle, I wouldn’t want to risk broken bones with these swollen and aching muscles. I tell you, it is a challenge to age gracefully. There is something that I noticed about life, we like to label things, people, creating a picture using our own lenses, then we are disappointed if they don’t appear the way we want them to.