And on the drive,
down and winding south,
I began to breathe easier, no longer choking bile and exclaiming every time I vomit, "I lost my burp." We try to remember the last time I came home----When-- It's been a year. That long. How easy it is to lose track of time and home when swallowed whole by the stressing of the jungle.
All for the love of country (and money, haha)--- I said to Adamant who says he misses me amid his latest project of pizza and pasta and pun. While my chippy fry girl asks about merry thou--- a hat tip to thou Ma'am--- I curtsy, a lady in the Vatican region, who does not kneel, bend, bow or blow. "All missionary eh?"
Off with the ladies' heads!
And their cakes!
And these extra pounds of stress!
---REPLIES; APOLOGIES: FOR THE LITTLE PEOPLE DECIDED TO OPEN THEIR GIFTS--- WHAT DELIGHTFUL FAILURES IN THE MARSHMALLOW TEST---- THE LITTLE ONE KEPT ON SAYING "WOW" WHILE THE MIDDLE ONE HELPED HER TO RIP HER GIFTS OPEN---
---ENTER GREETING--- A merry ho-ho-ho joke from Toledo for a greeting: A lion would never be caught cheating on his wife. A tiger "would." Hehe---WASAAAAAA----- MORE GREETINGS FOR MISSED MA'AM MISSED FRIEND MISSED GHOST-----
Just hours ago, I saw a classmate from elementary in the newest giant grocery--- May, that's her name--- And she merrily bussed my cheek while I struggled to remember her name so I asked instead, "You're here with whom?" Her children and she asked, "Do you have any?" I laughed, "No." And she pointed to her watch--- tick, tick, tick--- I laughed: Welcome home, oh ye ticking womb and finger.
And on the drive,
down and winding south,
I remembered how I used to hate coming home, wanting another place--- anywhere else---to be home. Now home is indeed home after being to so many elsewhere. The beginning of home is that sweet smell of copra and grass, just cleaner air from trees, and oh yes---- carabao crap--- and in my mind I drove faster and faster through the night.
I had wondered if I still had the strength to drive the seven, eight, nine, ten hours depending on the stops and traffic of those who also want to come home. Ah, to test it again but I still knew the roads by memory, no matter how many holes have been filled and re-cemented in this road.
----I LEAVE THE NEW GENERIC GREETINGS UNANSWERED----
I had kept on looking at the night sky, reminded by somebody to look at the sky just nights before, it was beautiful but I didn't see, remembering the cold nights that my first friend and I spent on rooftops, looking at the stars, shooting stars, wishing with "Kurt Cobain! Kurt Cobain! Kurt Cobain!" Before and after he died. My first friend--- I am not allowed to see by time, still remembered, left to wondering and hoping all is well. Unlike other friends who slide through to get through these merry empty days.
----I LOOK UP FROM THIS SCREEN AND SEE MY 5 YEAR OLD NEPHEW--- "YOU'RE MY BABY," I SAID TO HIM AGAIN AS I KISSED HIS HEAD--- PLAYING A RACING GAME IN HIS PAPA RAT'S OLD LAPTOP---- I SHAKE MY HEAD---- JESUS CHRIST HE'S SMART----
Just hours ago, he had said as I was dicing onions, garlic, tomatoes, mushroom, bell pepper... "Inay, I want to help." And so I asked him to wash all the vacuum-sealed fruits and vegetables we bought in the newest giant grocery.
And on the drive,
long and winding south,
A new count--- no longer in kilometers or hours to reach home--- but in songs: It took 230 songs to reach home. And before left, the last day in the stressing jungle, I looked at the 8:30 night St. Francis sky and said, "That is what noon would look like if it were a total solar eclipse."
-------I am not drinking and "I don't need presents," I smilingly said as I was kissed on the forehead by my companion for 11 years, apologizing for not getting his gifts for me wrapped. (I bought myself the present I really wanted in the newest giant grocery: these rubber string hairbands)----
230 songs to home, I thought, as I stared at myself in the parents' bathroom mirror, thinking about how my youngest sister has become our far-away-mother (offering to mend a torn sleeve; or a face towel, towel and daster). Or how my eldest sister has become our far-away-father. Or how I've become our far-away-second-sister---
On these merry days.
And on the drive,
long and winding south,
I look at the night sky once more, hoping to see a shooting star to wish that someday soon, on this day, we'll all be together---
Home.
It is not sad, this merriment, just quietly missing.
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