Brown’s digression

 

I look at the wireless modem’s blinking lights and smell the slight stink of our hamster. I try to discern the different shapes and figures in the darkness. And aided by the faint glow of the overused laptop, I watch over you as you sleep. I trace the outline of your beautiful face. Such pride that I have someone like you beside me. I have said this a million times, but you, my purty baby, are simply wonderful. I stare at you, the brat in me willing you to wake up. I whisper in your ear then proceed to softly caress your nose and lips. Calvin sometimes gives you a full smack on your lips, and he loves it whenever you wake up and give him your sweet I-love-you smile. But lately, I hear your gentle snores. Or your soft moans. Bad dreams are a staple of your nights recently. The current stresses of work and environment have been hard on you. And so I’ve decided to watch over you every night. To try to calm you whenever you suddenly bolt upright with silent screams pasted on your lovely lips. Or when you wake up shaking a limb back to life, and I’d soothe you and massage that blasted arm or leg back to existence. I’ll softly kiss you on your forehead and give you massive, comfortable, giant hugs. And tell you that everything’s okay, that I am here to protect you, and support you, and shield you from physical, emotional harms that seem to ruin our time together. So I’ll digress. Christmas is right around the corner. I miss my family back in the Philippines but I am profoundly happy that we will finally spend it together. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, the song proclaims. So despite the distance from our loved ones (I miss Lucrezia and Wifeye alot), we will spend it with utmost glee. We are happy. And with the goodness of God, and the presence of our wonderful friends, we continuously will. Happy Christmas everyone!

FW: I remember

I remember. When we used to walk along the sidewalk. Have just got off the bus, and we are holding hands while walking. We pay adherence to the eternal cliché, but really, we don’t care at all. We are happy. As we pass the grocery store, and the little food stall. I wonder aloud whether we could eat those cold sunny side ups, hotdogs and fried fish for breakfast. No, my stomach ironically grumbles. Looks unappealing even for the wretched old dogs around. Then a stray cat. Was strangely amused at your phobia. I remember. One time I took your hand and guided you toward a kitten. You were half blind, not wearing contacts, and you literally jumped and scampered from left to right. You, pounding my right arm as I grinned. Bad me. I wanted you to conquer your fear… And I keep saying sorry as we pass the tricycle drivers. So early in the morning and they already exude the scent of the working people – did they take a bath that morning? Some of them block our path, and we briefly let go of our hands to navigate through the throngs of people coming our way. Then we turn left; pass the little fruit stand flaunting scores of rotting bananas. The way clears. We link, hhww again. A few more meters and we approach the pan de sal store. Then you tug at my jacket (like a kid, really), urging me to buy you bread.… Sometimes I do. But oftentimes I don’t. I remember, I kept saying it will ruin your appetite for breakfast. Then you had pouted during the times I said no. Cute pout, though. Sometimes you’d softly cry like a child. And I’d see your lips turn radically red. I melt, really… We walk a few lengths. Then we arrive at home. Lucrecia will surely be awake. She always greets you first, because she loves you more than her biological uncle. I am amused, that’s perfectly okay. Then she’ll ask for her treat. You two shall venture outside and I won’t be suprised when you return bearing candies, bread and cake. Stubborn you… I remember. You are a sweet purty little thing, and I love you, and I don’t understand why I keep saying no. And during this time of separation, I regret every time I lost my temper or said no. But such is life my dear Hobbes. Come October, everything will be perfect. That I promise you.