Finding Home

     I was preparing my first cup of coffee in the morning when the black-naped Orioles began calling. They occasionally visit the Neem Tree that grew just outside our property ten years ago. I noticed how it sounded as if there were more than two orioles which was a rare occurrence. And so, I decided to take my coffee outside.       It took a while before they sang again, maybe a good 5-7 minutes or so. In which time, I had already taken the first few, very much welcome sips of my waking brew. I took in their song still seated, resisting the immediate urge to have a visual on them. I continued to relish my cup of black whilst basking in their music. As I did, I heard the zebra doves cooing their soothing tune like a flute as well. The yellow-vented bulbuls were chiming in their short but sweet tones. And not to be excluded were the Philippine-pied fan tails with their staccato-like chirps. It was as if I was listening to a mini symphony live. The garden was my music hall and the music

"The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome,"   As I wake earlier than the boys to prepare for the day's necessities, I find myself introspecting on Derek Walcott's words whose meaning have changed over the years in the various seasons that have come to pass in my life.  I prepare the rice and set it on the stove. Then I sit at the kitchen table with my cup of black relishing so much the silence and stillness in our home. It allows my body, mind and heart to ease into the various comings and goings of the day. Thoughts appear though not necessarily interconnected or perhaps they are: I am a mother first. Always. I chose this life. Every departure was, is a choice. Every coming home too. Letting go and forgiveness is a process I have to do many, many times. How do I imbue love, kindness and compassion in all the choices in my life when self-judgment is ever p