After the morning bath…
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Edrick: Mom, why am I getting dressed?
Mommy: Entah lah. Why?
Edrick: So I won’t look too bugil?
Mommy: Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
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Entah lah = I don’t know
bugil = naked
Ha ha ha ha ha ha = can’t help feeling silly (very silly)
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Posted in Monchies | Tagged Parenting | 8 Comments »
Enida bapantun juo di rambang patang…
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Apo digadang puluik basabuik,
udang di Banang indak tabali;
Mato mamandang muluik manyabuik,
urang dikanang indak paduli.
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*Enida
Bukit Pokrovsky
Moscow
Russia
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..
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Posted in Poetry, Write On | Tagged Pantun | 1 Comment »
This picture. There was a story that came with it. In fact, there was a story that came with everything I saw, everything I captured with my out-of-date little camera. And I was going to tell you the story right away.
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But then I changed my mind. The way I change my mind everytime a not-so-good thought comes knocking. I don’t open my door to bad thoughts. Not usually. I don’t even ask ‘Who’s there?’
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The truth is, a year ago, if I had let the clouds of pain take me over… there was going to be no such thing as silver lining. Or silver anything. There wasn’t even going to be the silver-like ring on any of my fingers. Forget silver bells.
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I came a long way, as the story did not unfold just a year ago. It had started long before that. And the other truth is, I have been rethinking about it all lately. About how we choose from choices, opportunities and second chances granted to us. About how our choices lead us to where we are today.
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And for me to have been in Calgary in April 2010 despite what happened in April 2009 and August 2008… I have had my silver storms. I had seen months of rain with no sign of rainbows. I had seen clouds with the chance of armageddon. I had lost hope, found it, lost it again and faked one or two (or three).
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The only un-artificial thing left on me is probably my teeth. Even they have been filled with silver and mercury. And even they have not been able to turn me into a silver-tongued Enida. Well, such is life. And questa… è Enida. ¡Ya basta!
Posted in Write On | Tagged Life | Leave a Comment »
It must have been the Prairie air, the open space and Mom’s homemade bread. It must have been. For the first time in many many years, I get to enjoy my days and nights thinking about nothing. Yes, thinking about nothing.
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All these years I have been extremely busy thinking about something all the time. Anything at anytime. Never nothing. Always something. But now, here… though I am still actively thinking all the time, I am not bound to any particular thought at a time. I deal with one thought when I have to. Even then, I haven’t really had to.
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It is, for lack of a newer and a more bombastic word… a bliss! Just like being out there in the fields of gold, the Prairie bed.
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A bliss.
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So who painted my moon black?
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Posted in Travel | Tagged Thoughtful | 2 Comments »
Sometimes I think my heart is an empty room. I have at some point invited too many in, and at times locked too many out. Either way, nobody stayed.
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Posted in Sense | 1 Comment »
I was dancing silly to this tune this morning, giving quite a performance to me Monchies, sending them laughing their butts off on the hide-a-bed, almost getting myself caught by my mother-in-law, and earning a few slaps on the behind by me hubba… when I realized how much I missed shaking me booties, boobies and boogies:
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You cannot take Enida too far too long from her bootylicious gelek mode. Eeeehhhh! Ahh ahh! Shake it baby, shake it baby one more time!
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Posted in Write On | Leave a Comment »
I actually did look, one night, for something to drink other than coffee. But I wasn’t going to crawl into Mom’s kitchen cabinet, for the fear of finding more drinks other than coffee. Not that I mind other drinks. Hehe. Chai, perhaps?
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Lo and behold, the very next evening, Mom recalled that she had some hot chocolate powder in her storage. I guess she could smell that I was thirsty for something more. Something else.
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Yes, ladies, gentlemen and you too, Jimmy… my Mom (mother-in-law) had a jar of chocolate-malt drink mix she had been keeping since 2006. For me, alright! Maybe I should have gone crawling into her kitchen cabinet.
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It was MILO! Four miloneums old. But hey, I am still alive.
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Posted in Monchies, Write On | Tagged Food | 8 Comments »
Port of Call.
Her battle was lost during the last year of her beautiful life. She lost it. Her memory. She used to collect everything she could collect. She used to keep everything she could keep. Just so she could hang on to everything she could hang on to. So she wouldn’t forget. So she would remember it all.
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And then she forgot it all. She lost it all. She even forgot where she was. All she could hang on to was her name and where she met the love of her life. All she remembered was where she was when she was young and when she was in love.
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She was in the Port of Dickson’s. She was in love.
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And that was the last beach I took her to, on which she walked as though she knew it was her last walk on the beach. I think she knew it. What she didn’t know was where the love of her life had been. It was all gone before she could let it go. And then she let go.
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She left.
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Posted in Mom | Tagged Life | 2 Comments »
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Questa è Enida 