Empty Swings/Monday Mellow Yellows

First sight.

Empty swing

moving back then forth, slow.

giggles

Innocent juvenile laughter

legs high in the air

swing in, then out

arms out

embracing the world

creak, squeak

hear the noises of childhood memories

falling leaves like a release of a swing

slowing down--back to today

flying from the seat

empty swing

moving back, then forth, slow.

~ Kiley

Linking to Monday Mellow Yellows

Nostalgia: Christmas musings

I am not a Christmas person but I'm no Scrooge. Maybe because I was brought up in a family where Christmas is considered un-Christian and therefore not celebrated. But I joined Christmas activities in school, admired the festive décor and loved the nightly carolers.  And I confess that I even went with childhood friends to a few simbang gabi only because of bibingka and the chance of seeing my crush. :p  


Then I was godmother to my friends' children---about 20 of them and counting. When I started to earn money, Christmas shopping was my main event when the -ber months arrive. I stretched my budget so I could buy gifts for everybody---my family, godchildren, close friends and officemates.

@ mirandablue

Nativity set from Creative Treasury

I got excited when the Christmas lights along Ayala Avenue were lighted. Whole day shopping in Divisoria was something I looked forward to. The Christmas rush thrilled me! Wrapping gifts the whole night delighted me! But as the years pass, Christmas and all its traditions have become another stressful event to hurdle before the year ends---a sign of Christmas burnout, I was told. Or maybe, I am just getting old.  The long lines in the stores feel like a hike to Mt. Everest---sore feet, short tempers, tired sales clerks, crazy traffic, highway robbery, pickpockets are some the words I associate with Christmas as I crawled myself out from the maddening mob of shoppers in Greenhills.

Christmas is such a metaphor---it offers a place and a time for reactions to happen, transformations of people, not all bright and happy. It's mind-boggling how a spiteful co-worker would suddenly turn sugary around Christmas.  The season can also be a time of darkness---imagine OFWs, sailors, prisoners and soldiers at Christmas; a need for hope, like for Congress to pass priority bills before their Christmas break; and a time of suspense---would he finally tell me how he feels after Christmas dinner? would I get a Christmas bonus?...with considerable potential for depression and disappointment (we're still "friends"...or he didn't even call! Or I was expecting a diamond ring, not a stupid scarf!). :p

I have no special childhood Christmas memory, except for the exchange of crudely gift-wrapped soap, hanky and toothbrush in grade school, Christmas pageants in high school and an occasional gift from my godfather. My childhood memories are not of Christmas gifts and rituals, but of hopes and fears, of a place that had nurtured my dreams, a scene etched forever in all its smells, sounds, tastes, textures and feel. 

When the cold December wind blows, I dream of those childhood memories.  My old creaky bed and ratty old pillow, patterns on my grandmother's housedress, the smell of burning dried leaves, warm bibingka for breakfast, dew drops on grass, hide-and-seek games, warm sand on the beach, ghost stories after dark. The season makes me homesick (even when I’m home!). Maybe I long for a different time, a sweet, innocent time when life was simpler.

Whatever you do and however you celebrate Christmas, remember that Christmas is not a date, it's a state of mind.

What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace. 

~ Agnes M. Pharo

Posted for Nostalgic Marveling hosted by Rose

Nostalgia: Minors in New York

Central Park                     @ mirandablue

My first visit to New York City a few months after 9/11 was overwhelming.  There was so much to see and experience in such a short trip. Stringent security procedures were implemented, and people secretly eyed each other with curiosity (especially if you're an alien).  You couldn't miss the vibrancy of American travelers as they rushed in airports, but there was an underlying tension under the "business as usual" attitude. 


After meetings in San Francisco and Dallas, I flew to NYC and it was purely for pleasure.  I wanted to see Ground Zero, at the same time, looking forward to experience New York City in springtime.  But when I arrived, it was at the beginning of spring.  It was wet and cold and the streets were covered by a muddy slush of melted snow.  The trees were bare still and the sky was downcast.  I was miserable!

I stayed with a friend in Brooklyn and she wanted to show me around.  But I could barely get up in the morning---my friend had to drag me to the shower and out of the apartment so I could see the city.  All I wanted to do was stay in bed and sleep all day long.  Itchy pimples erupted on my face and I never felt so ugly in my life!

Ground Zero                                                                      @ mirandablue

One of my dreams was to see a show in Broadway.  To cheer me up, my friend bought us tickets to see "Mama Mia" in Broadway. After the show, it was so cold outside I needed a shot to warm me up.  We went into a bar and ordered whiskey.  But the bartender looked at us like we were aliens [from outer space] or we had grown a mustache.  My heart skipped a beat when he asked for an ID---do I look like a terrorist?   I gave him a look of outraged disbelief. Angry thoughts were running round my mind---I wondered if this was some kind of racial profiling.  I was about to express my indignation when the bartender said that it's illegal to serve alcohol to minors. "Huwattttt? We're not minors!" we protested.  Then we realized how funny it was!  We stopped being minors for the past 20 years or so.  In fact, back home, we're fondly called old maids!  We were laughing so hard while I was showing the bartender my passport.

He chuckled as soon as he opened my passport and told us that he worked in Hawaii and got in trouble because he didn't check the IDs of some Asian girls.

A group of [Caucasian] men behind us remarked how lucky Asian girls are---that we look perpetually young!  We said a charming "Thank you" and gave the bartender a generous tip.


Oh, remembering the bar incident still tickles the tip of my nose.:p

Posted for Nostalgic Marveling

Nostalgia: Time travel

@ mirandablue

When I am having a bad hair day, one look at this picture and I chuckle.  I love this frozen psychedelic time travel that takes one back to the era of the beat generation.  Rest assured this group does not belong to a cult espousing free love and alternative states of consciousness.These hippies were not high on anything except hair-spray.  The flower power get-up was the theme of our company's Christmas party in 1999.  


You'd be surprised how difficult it was to look this cheap hip. It was a team effort, really. Tita M and Mel were in charge of charol bags---I don't know where they got the bags and outfits, while I scoured every beauty parlor in Guadalupe looking for wigs, begging a few Miss Gay contestants to lend me their wigs for a night. Didn't know about ukay-ukay back in the day, and I had no idea where to get retro outfits. (If only my mother kept her 60's wardrobe complete with polka-dot vinyl bags and winklepicker shoes...sigh!)


Well, it took me 3 weekends to finally find the perfect orange outfit at Corso Marconi.  To complete the look, I wore an afro wig [that itched like crazy] and a pair of clogs that felt like I was pulling a whole trunk of acacia under my feet.  Varicose veins screaming in protest but I pulled it off like a true-blue hippie fashionista.  By 3 am, we were all dancing barefoot sans wigs.  It was liberating!


We were admiring each other's brilliant creations [sic] when somebody asked, "What happened to Lola Cristy? Why is she wearing a curtain?"  Obviously, Lola C is the one in florals, a testimony that she grew up in the 60's.


This was one Christmas party that I will always remember---a fun, delightful night among friends and colleagues. It was a poolside party held on the roof top of a building in Ortigas Center.  Marte and I won the "star of the night" award with a cash prize of one thousand pesos each.  It didn't cover the cost of my outfit but at least I have this photo to look at when my spirit needs a lift.  

Posted for Nostalgic Marveling hosted by Rose

Nostalgia: Scents from childhood

@ mirandablue

Recently, I stayed at a friend's ancestral home in Laguna.  The house has been empty for quite a while as most of the family members are living abroad, and those who are in Manila are too busy to make the trip.  A caretaker does the cleaning and the upkeep of the house.  The house, with its echoes, reminded me of my grandmother's house in Negros.  

I stayed in the guest room.  Originally, this was the room of my friend's aunt--a single woman who died in this room from old age.  My friend was probably expecting me get spooked--he didn't realize how I love a little bit of mystery and spookiness.  But I wasn't able to sleep right away on the first night--I kept thinking about an old, frail lady dying on the same bed I was lying on (although the bed doesn't look that old!:p).  And with morbid fascination, I started to conjure images of my own death.

Instead of counting sheep, I decided to explore the room.  This beautiful antique armoire caught my fancy.  The carvings are fine and delicate--a family heirloom, I suppose.  When I opened it, the room was flooded with the scent of napthalene (or moth) balls---the scent from childhood (as my friend would later say, the odor of coffin lining :P).  As we all know, smell evokes memory.  The scent of moth balls comforted me somehow---it triggered memories of crisp blankets and pillow cases, fluffy towels and lacy curtains, of my grandmother's room with her not-so-hidden treasures of chocolates, fancy dresses and coins.

I was still dreaming the next morning when I was called for breakfast.


What scents trigger your childhood memories?

Posted for Nostalgic Marveling