Bad Coffee

I fixed him coffee – hot and aromatic – just the way he likes it. I seriously hope that he will like it because last time, I screwed up on the coffee – creamer ratio. If such happens, he doesn’t drink the whole cup; sometimes, he just doesn’t drink it at all even after inhaling a lungful of that soothing caffeinated aroma that he is so addicted to. I mean, who turns down coffee just because it isn’t made as creamy or as sweet as preferred? He will only drink it all the way down if I got the ratios right.

That’s my husband – a man who is very particular with his wants and needs. He knows what he prefers and he is specific with all the things he chooses.

Even with me, his wife.

 

Continue reading from Source: Bad Coffee

A Barrio Tale

Blackness.

I open my eyes and there is still blackness. The air is chilly. I am certain the sun has not yet risen. My siblings are still fast asleep. My mother, still in deep slumber. Time to get up before I am tempted to lie down again. Read more

Her Money’s Worth

She received an invitation from a family friend in abroad. It was an invitation to an 18th birthday. There was going to be a Debut party for a daughter and the celebration was going to be held in one of the cities in the Philippines. A hotel has been booked for the venue and for the guests. It was going to be a formal event – gowns, barong’s and fancy footwear.

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My Hunter

It’s our last meal for the day

– the last remaining scraps of meat from yesterday’s hunt. It was Him who caught this animal with horns. I don’t know what it’s called; He knows its name. It’s not like it matters whether I know what we’re eating or not. What is the value of my knowing? Only He has the right to know.

He has been trying so hard to find more food for us. I almost felt guilty for licking the last bits of meat. Those scraps were the only ones left from his hunt. I know it is more difficult for him to hunt now because of this strange weather. Every animal seems to have hidden behind the thickness of this white sheath from the sky. This sheath is lovely to look at, but it deprives us so.

∞Continue with the story…∞

 

 


my hunter cover


 

Heshe: The Guardian of the Stairs

“No….NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” shrieked my 3-year-old daughter. She could not get farther up the stairs. There was something in her way. Finally, I thought. At least I wouldn’t have to tell her several times again, to stop climbing.

The stairs is an accident-prone area for toddlers; and even more accident-prone is a room where there is hard-core handiwork going on.

“Nooooo….. go away!” she says again and again. Stubborn much.

My brother was doing some major cleaning and damage repair in his room. He also repainted his room’s faded white walls into an elegant grayish-blue. There was decluttering of old things – junk and all. There was moving and arranging all about. My daughter, naturally, got curious. She wanted to find out what was going on in my brother’s room. She went up to “inquire”, but was eventually asked to “go downstairs and watch Disney”.

Watch Disney, she did.

After a few minutes, my daughter couldn’t help but wonder what was still going on upstairs. There was the sound of sawing of wood. She climbed her way up the stairs and made it to my brother’s door. “Ah! There’s a kid in here.” I heard my brother say. He stopped what he was doing and gently guided my daughter back down the stairs.

For a few minutes, she was contented with Disney. Then there was the sound of more sawing and tearing of wood. My daughter ran up the stairs this time, eager to see the source of a more persistent noise. Again, she was sent down.

Kids have all sorts of things that scare them. Some get scared with lizards and cockroaches; some, of mascots. Sometimes certain facial reactions and distortions sadden them; sometimes loud voices and noises upset them so. In my daughter’s case, the slow ways of a turtle give her the creeps. That was why when my daughter attempted another laborious climb, my brother decided to place his pet turtle at the topmost step of the stairs. My daughter, suddenly, could not go farther. She dashed downwards in genuine fear. She was so afraid of what the turtle might do that even at the sight of it, she screamed and ran away.

Heshe is the name of my brother’s pet turtle. It was named so because we weren’t so sure of its sex –male or a female. One day, my brother saw it, a mere baby in                                 the street – tiny, unaided, and vulnerable. He picked it up and decided to bring it home. From then on, it has become a household member. Although harmless and naturally slow, my daughter just seems to freak out whenever she sees Heshe. Perhaps she could not reconcile the fact that a real, live turtle looks different from the cartoon and animated versions of it on TV. What with the detailed patterns and designs of its shell and the green-ish color of its skin.

Now, thanks to Heshe, my daughter is safe from possible accidents and injuries, as she does not dare enter the premises of an accident-prone area. Yay, Heshe!