Finding Home

Years ago, a friend who owned a Gowns-for-Rent boutique in our city and other cities proposed to me that I be one of her models for their billboard ad featuring women of various kinds of strength. At that time, I was well immersed in the world of CrossFit. I was 35 at that time and had been the fittest in my entire life at that point. She had this concept of how she wanted to present a juxtaposition of this perception of society's yardstick of femininity and strength. I marveled at her idea. But I was clearly unsure of myself and other considerations living in a small city where everyone knew everyone, and everyone talked about everyone as if they truly knew everyone and having your face plastered on a tarpaulin 24/7 apparently was the dealbreaker. As much as I love to share my thoughts on social media through poetry and essays, my image presented to the public as a model was a totally different beast altogether. She told me in her very caring and sensitive manner that she understo

March 1, 2020 "Kinsa imong gibisita Mam?" the Grab driver asks. Whose grave did you visit? "Akong Papa." "Unsa na ka dugay?" "20 years." "Aw dugay naman diay." So it has been quite a while. He said it in a manner that somehow tells me it is no longer as painful as it must have been before.   The driver’s words stung. I wanted to him to take back his comment but remained silent as he proceeded to tell a story of how his own father had died many years ago as well. I responded politely and listened to him but my mind drifted elsewhere.   I wept at my father's grave. "I forgive you. I miss you.   I still see your face, still hear your voice." One continuous stream of thought flowed from the core of my being spilling out of my eyes.  I hear the Grab driver’s own storytelling as if from a distance. Meanwhile I am unhinged by the barrage of emotions. A song plays from the car’s radio," Mutya ka Bale