For you, Jaxene Therese






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Kindness and Grief

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     Shortly after my mother died, a friend gave me wishbone flowers also known as bluewings to plant. She did not know that my mother absolutely loved flowers, orchids in particular. So, it was serendipitous as it was very kind. Planting flowers in our back garden became my anchor as I dealt with her loss. Being with them in the early hours of the morning with my first cup of coffee felt like being with her. Later in the morning I would pull out the weeds that grew around it. Touching earth was like holding her hand again. And as the sun poured over my back it was like her entire presence holding me steady.       After a couple of years, I had to uproot all the flowers I planted including the blue wings that my friend gave me because of a severe case of rhinitis that inflamed my left ear and affected my hearing. The pollen from the flowers exacerbated my condition. It was another kind of loss, yet again. Needless to say, I had to do it. Otherwise, my ...
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For the Love of Stories

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The sun is high. A warm breeze fills the air. Sparse tufts of clouds are spread throughout the sky.  It is going to be a beautiful day. I just know it. It is the day of the Hi Sandangaw, A Waray Tale storybook launch. As I alight our vehicle, green and silver balloons intertwined set in front of the glass door entrance complete with hanging vines creating a forest-like entry into the venue greet me along with lively chirpings of "Maupay na hapon!" from our Grade 11 student volunteers. As I enter, Hi Sandangaw stands alone on a wooden book stand beside an arrangement of flowers on the registration table. Amina, Melo and Kalipay are spread out as well. I step inside the room and am greeted by this expanse of white light emanating across the entire space. I would like to believe this is the light of good energy one great story brings. Banig is laid out on the floor complete with throw pillows and a bean bag. In the small stage are two potted bamboo plants on both ends. An anima...
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This Autism Life, This Chosen Life

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     I imagine mothers with neurotypical children still lose sleep wondering where their 21-year-olds are at night doing whatever 21-year-olds do, praying they get home safe and sound.      I, on the other hand, lose sleep because my 21-year-old neurodivergent son refuses to sleep.  Or rather his body does not allow him to. His neurophysiology is on hyper-alert whenever a change in routine is occurring. Never mind the meltdowns that inevitably follow.       Do I wish we had a different life, a more normal one? Yes. Many times. Especially now where in my perimenopause phase I value sleep more than ever. And my mental and emotional state teeters back and forth with my fluctuating hormones. Three years ago, a friend gifted to me Matt Haig's The Midnight Library. Since reading it, it made me realize that had I had made a different choice two decades plus before, I could have had a different life. Perhaps I wouldn't have borne children ...
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