Another Year Over

   What to write about in our annual Christmas letter? We've pretty much updated everybody on our list on Facebook, usually about the kids' capers, Zen thoughts for inspiration, a sprinkle of poetry when the mood strikes, and pictures, pictures, and more pictures.

    Start-overs are a common occurence in our household especially after a bad day. The good ones...we don't want them to end. In fact, we want more of those. The year in retrospect is an affirmation of everything good in our lives - close ties with families, true friends and an abundance of opportunities to realize that we have been blessed. Even in our saddest moments we recognize these gifts. Ninety-three years was not long enough to have my Dad in our lives. Still, there was serenity in his passing and makes more precious the presence of two grandmothers and a great-grandmother for our boys. Jared and Kyle (11 and almost 9 respectively), touched base with their Filipino roots for the first time and the trip will always be remembered as bittersweet as they said hello and goodbye to their Lolo for the last time. Showing them the house where I grew up was a dream come true. There will have to be future trips.

     Dennis (23) keeps busy with his personal training business.We try to watch  what we eat when he is around. He is the only one who can make the boys eat tuna with green beans and makes doing sit-ups more fun than any video game. And watching the three of them (yes, them three) create with their Lego sets lets me live with the fact that there has to be thousands of Lego pieces on  their bedroom floor on any given day. I just wade through them at night to kiss the young ones goodnight, my feet like windshield wipers with a mission. I cringe when a piece or two does not survive the vacuuminator. Perhaps I don't have plantar fasciitis after all - if I can just pull out the Lego pieces stuck to my heel.

     As for Randy - I give him credit for waking up early every day to get the boys ready for school. And for all the fluffy pancakes he makes on weekends when we're home. And for the silent nights we've had lately. Only he knows why.   ;-)

     Me? Just when I think I'm losing my sanity, I realize at the end of the day that there's always tomorrow. For start-overs.

     And so this is Christmas. And that's what we've done. Another year over. A new one will begin.

    Wishing you all peace, joy, hope, a stronger faith now and in the New Year to come. And love. Mostly love.

Merry Christmas from

Randy, Susan, Dennis, Jared, and Kyle

Brown-Eyed Girl

(image by rennan quijano)

What secrets do you hold behind those

Big brown eyes

Girl, are you  woman now?

Have you known bliss? Heartache?
Died a little? Live a lot?

Girl, you are woman now.

The Retail Warrior

She stalks the mall days before

Mapping, planning, prioritizing

Should she go or should she stay

The Ritual for years unbroken

Springing into action at the break of dawn
He has five words for her -

"Don't hurt anybody out there."

Onward in the wake of Christmas ditties

Quietly, stealthily, she weaves in and out of the crowd

Armed and dangerous, she brings no one
Two hunks of a man take one look at the lines
Tails tucked in, turn away
This is not for the faint of hearts!

Stashing the spoils in her four-wheeled blood-red warship
( So it's a mini-van. Is that a problem?)

Seemingly, extremely out of practice

Apparently she has not lost her touch

Surrendering her yen

She kept her Zen

Giving Thanks

For waking up in the morning
And the chance to start anew
Four wheels to go places
And a job to do

The simple pleasures of watching leaves fall
Steaming hot coffee
Perhaps time to wander inside the mall
While the boys are in P.E.

Time to practice Tai Chi
Time to drink Chai tea
Time to do nothing
Just time being

Families to help you when times are tough
Friends that make you laugh
A husband who still loves even when the going gets rough
Happy, healthy boys are more than enough

Stretch my spirit with yoga
Fold  love into freshly-laundered clothes
Listen to the boys speak Yoda
Before go to sleep they must

For the nighttime to gather my day's gratitude
Homeworks done, spelling words spelled right
Recharge this positive attitude
While I sleep overnight

The Great Seduction

She comes ready to strip off  her gown of gold

Hues of cinnabar, titian too

Glorious and resplendent with

The sun still warm, remnants of summer's caress

Almost late for their rendezvous
As avian witnesses head south
Still rooted to her mother

She lays down for old man winter

Never forgetting the one

Who shows up with the April showers

Waiting again another year

For old man winter

Stung

And this comes a day late

To pay tribute to you

Angel of mine by fate

Sister Scorpio - that's you

I kiss you once

I kiss you twice
I kiss you once again
God blessed me with two sisters

So grateful one of them is you

Live each day as though it were your first

See old things like new

And never forget

To make time for you

Boo!

Trick or treat we say to you
Pirates, clone troopers and ninjas too
Knock on the door, hold out your bag
Don't forget to say "thank you"
Else they'll say "Boo"!

Home at last with candies galore
Tired but happy and much too sugary
Trading chocolate bars, say no to the nuts
Candy tax for big bro and Daddy
For taking you places and seeing masked faces

Mommy meanwhile worked five in a row
Stick a fork in her she's done for now
All through the house, stirs not even a mouse
Up she goes to tuck 'em and kiss ' em
Mysterious smile as she  comes downstairs
Good mother she is
Candy check do she must

Ring-a-ling Hear Them Ring

On a night made sacred with the silent whisper of the wind
A solitary star burns bright - hope up the velvet sky
Pregnant with wisdom of matters earthly transpire
While Magis three from the East traverse
Deserts and bandits on the way to true glory
Shepherds and royalties pay homage to poverty
Kings they were not, wise men guided by constellations

In the city, folks follow the star that leads to the mall
With Christmas jingles that hold everyone in thrall

Silver cards, cold cash, no gold and frankincense here

Just the Yuletide air of December in mid-October
Commerce and mirth instead of providence and myrrh
Pumpkins and goblins mingling with turkeys and carolers

In a free-for-all of ancient and current, sacrosanct and sacrilegious

So goes the story many times told
Of men and women for reasons so old

Fall Descending

A palette of fall hues around us
Ochre, cinnamon, and vermilion
Foliage ready to leave, lingering until you came
A gift readily given, a token of love


How was I to know you'd teach me
More than I could ever show you
Love beyond what is
Patience beyond what could be

Find your place in the sun

Don't forget to have fun
Make the world  a better place
Happy birthday, son.

Cebu

Mactan Bridge. Magellan's Cross. Makahiya.

Mangga.Gilami-an ang bata.
Saging pinaypay. San Carlos. Santo Nino.
Sireguelas.Sul-ob sa tsinelas.
Banana-Q. Camote-Q. Budbod. Puto.
Lomboy. Masi. Tamsi. Nakalimtan.
Utan bisaya. Humba. Durian. More durian.
Chicharon. Lechon. Dugo-dugo. Puso.
Banawa. Amahan mihawa.
Taoist Temple. Tambuli. Tartanilla. Trisikad.

Fort San Pedro. Cebu Normal University.

Hadsan. Olanggo. Alimango.
Igso-on. Ig-agaw. Napagaw sa lawgaw.
Puto balanghoy. Kamoteng kahoy. Rosquillos. Kasahos.
Amiga sa pagkabata. Klasmeyts sa pagkabata.
Mga higala nagkalata.
Pedicab. Taxi. Ayala. Ataya.
Dagat,dagat, dagat.


Cebu. Lingaw. Mingaw.

(pic art by rennan q)

I Have Twelve Lines for You

twelve years and counting
the vows we made
in bounty and adversity
I will honor until eternity

I was, before you - just me
now a family
you're my piece of peace
my haven before heaven

as I did then
I say now

in good times and bad

even death cannot us part

Happy Anniversary, Randy.

(pic art by Daniel Knight)

Poem for Liz

From these -  

   womanhood blossomed
      yellow polka dot bikini sits
         a lover slaked his thirst

             a babe suckled then slept
          

From these -

   she felt fear

      she heard her sentence  

         her mortality said hello
            she said no

Without these -                
     she still  felt loved

        she learned courage
          she learned surrender
              she survived

Farewell to Summer

September brings with it
a last fling with summer
before autumn sweeps in
and the steroid-pumped sun
leaves nothing but a sunburn
like paint peeling.
a glass of lemonade sits
sweet, sweating, sweltering
thirst unquenched and
dreamin' of chillin'.
your lips. only yours.
September brings with it
a last fling with summer
a birthday to remember
her kiss to surrender

Nine One One

Twin infernos

Apple gone sour

Unborn son asks

"Is this my world?"

Deaths in four digits

Wounded even more

Unborn son asks

"Is this my world?"

Hearts scarred by time

Unforgetting. Yet hope prevails.

Today son says, "Love, mama?"

Gentle Woman

Blessed are you with us women
Gracious in spirit
Teach us widom
Teach us love
Teach us peace
Show us courage
Show us grace
Show us surrender
Be the light
Be the dove
In the heavens above
You were made for us women
You were made for Jesus. Amen.

ZenSue Blessing

May you start and end your day with gratitude

Let love be your  guiding light

May you  open the gift of every now with wonder

Let the sublime and ordinary amaze you in equal measure

May you welcome poetry when it knocks on your heart's door

Better still, seek it with a passion as you have never before

And always, in all ways

To thyself be true.

Ode to the Laundrywoman (for Iya Feliza and Nitz)

She takes my basket of dirty clothes -
An Offering,

a bouquet of hibiscus or

like sins forgiven.

anticipation to wear again
that pretty little white dress -

baring my biceps,

jasmine of cotton around my neck.
they come home to me

hand-washed,

rinsed from their inequities
and sad memories.

now sun-kissed,
wind-blown and

cotton fibers pressed -
side-to-side top-to-bottom folded.
Her smile demure and warm as the daffodil sun

Her delicate hands I hold in mine,  A Pray'r -

gratitude overflowing
notwithstanding next load coming.

undone

some bridges are better left uncrossed

some doors are best left closed

some poems are best left unwritten

some words are better off unspoken

a  kiss left unkissed

is a promise not made

and thus cannot be broken

as only hearts can be

there's a reason certain paths are not taken

a reason some falling stars are not wished upon

for when it comes to what matters

done can leave one in tatters

When Clean is Mean

     Yesterday I cleaned out the boys' room while they were in school. Picked up every single Lego piece on the floor. One or two may not have escaped the vacuum cleaner's wrath. Everynight I wade through hundreds of them just to make it to their bed to kiss them goodnight. We talk about safety and all but still thousands lay there like carpeting. I may not have plantar fasciitis after all. I just need to pull out these multi-colored plastics out of my heels and then I can walk straight again.

     We come home from school and I show them their immaculate room. And God help me - Jared threw a fit and Kyle of course took his cue from his older brother. We're talking throes of crying and weeping, feet-stomping and fists beating on the pillows because things were not left as they were and what a mean Mom I was for cleaning up the room!  It was ridiculously comical! I didn't break anything they had created, mind you. Just put all the loose pieces in one (or more) buckets.

   Yet honestly? The room didn't look right spotless and Lego-free. I may just do penance by sorting Lego pieces by color. Besides, I have a few hours to myself when they play with them blasted pieces. Down the road, I may actually need therapy when  their room is clutter-free from toys.

(pic art by ZenSue)

Oh'ed by Teachers

Tonight I've tucked my boys to sleep
Tomorrow their minds the teachers keep
May angels watch over them and pray
Students and teachers to have a great first-day!
 
For how do they keep 24 minds in order
When all the children wish is for recess not to be over
To see their friends everyday
And not have any homework they say
 

School supplies, rules apply

Detention gets their attention

Read so you can lead

Add and mom won't be mad

When all is said and done

Teachers are angels bar none
Molding minds, touching hearts
As we parents also do our parts

How Do I Love Thee ? (with apologies to EBB)

How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways
I love thee to the depth and breadth
   of thy thousand Lego pieces on the floor
Bionicle parts runneth out of thy room
I can barely close the door

I love thee to my inner being's most quiet need (for privacy)
I  love thee unconditionally though thou test me sorely

I love thee endlessly as much as I wish for the day to end early

I love thee with passion put to use wisely
In my prayers, in my yearnings, and in my hopes
I love thee with a love that puts fear in me
And with all the saints, I love thee with the breath, all the sighs,
Weepings, and laughter- and if God chose to smile
I shall love thee better
When you both sleep at night and wake up even later

(pic art by ZenSue)

Rites of Passage

     There are  moments in life when one stops and realizes that things unfold as they should no matter how much one tries to arrange things as wanted. A wise woman once told me that though they may be made of scraps, there is a pattern in the quilt. And just like the back of  a tapestry that looks like a crisscrossing of threads and colors, when you look at the real picture it actually makes sense and you realize that every thread, every  color is there for a reason. That nothing is an accident, though frayed the tapestry may look at times.

     Fifteen years is a long time to not touch foot in one's country of birth and the place where most of one's growing up is done.  Two boys aged 8 and 10 make their first transpacific flight across the world to touch base with their mother's roots.  Meanwhile, an old man grows weary of the world at 93 and figures the time has come to make that final  journey. And while it is an impossibility to be present at a parent's first breath, being there when he takes his final one is a gift not afforded to all. Seeing family, old friends, classmates-turned- friends and even friends never seen before makes for happy times even in the saddest of circumstance. 
 

     Sew these scraps from the fabric of  life together, tie up these threads of events and what was a planned 3-week vacation turned into 6 weeks of precious time spent with a dying father, reconnecting with family and friends, making new ones and showing my two sons how deep their roots go. Was it a coincidence or serendipity that the trip was sandwiched between Mother's Day and Father's Day? My father, whose birthday was 5/28/2010, took his last breath at 5:28 p.m. on June 12  and a sister half-way across the world wakes up at the exact time. Even though seven siblings and their undeniably supportive spouses couldn't be together all at once, still they were united in ways unimaginable, each with a role to play, a memory to share.   Forty days later finds half of us reunited with  Mom, married to Dad for 55 years. Yet she does not stand alone. And never will. It's a promise made. Thus far, this particular quilt of life, this particular tapestry of memories makes for a warm cocoon for that cold winter of loneliness and longing. I already miss you Daddy...

    Truly, the river flows on its own...

(pic art by ZenSue)

Your Birthday Poem

May your birthday bring you joy

And everything else you've desired as a boy

Per chance you don't get it all

We could still get it at the mall

A gift for you is hard to get

When all your needs are met

And want is just a ploy

To get another toy

The thing I can give you

One perhaps two

Of whatever you desire

And whenever you require

And at the days end

Without meaning to send

You give me the gift of you

And for that -  always I'll love you.

Happy birthday sweetheart.

Hida L. Go - Part Two

 For Sylvia - wife divine of brother one...

And so it happened they flew

Across the ocean blue

To have that second honeymoon

As children two stayed home for seven a noon

The plan was for the victor and wife divine

To ply each other with love and wine
Perhaps take a tumble or two

While everybody else talked of what to do

But much to her surprise

Up before the sunrise

Out of the suitcase the other woman steps out shimmering

Proud neck and amber skin still glistening

Looking for the other brothers two

The only reason she flew across the ocean blue

For she figured if  brothers two were fun
Four would be twice it - under the sun !

Kampaiii!

Memories from Grandchildren

From John Baguio, 19  -

     Lolo was a very genuine man. I thank him for my height, my good looks, and most important my manners.
Any one that even had the chance to talk to or interact with Lolo can say he was a man of strong faith, faith that rubbed off on his children and grandchildren. Faith is the one thing that he held on to since I can even remember.I won’t forget the nights we would eat canned pork and beans, the road trips he and Lola came on, and his warm comforting smile. I would not be half the man I am today if it wasn’t for him.
I am praying for all of the family and love you very much Lolo.

Hannah Suarez, 15 and Hans Suarez, 13 -

      One thing I'll never forget about Lolo is his favorite question - "Do you love me?" Of course, you would always respond with "Yes, Lolo!" or "Of course, Lolo!" Any grandchild would. But he always had one more question - "How much?" Well, Lolo, we'll never truly find the words to tell you how much we really love you.
There are no words that can even come close to quantifying how much each and every one of us loves you.
The most we can do is spread our arms wide, say "This much!" and hope you understand that we love you with all our hearts - we always have and always will.

From Kathryn Quijano, 20, in Kentucky:

     When we were smaller, having Lolo living at home meant a lot. It meant learning to enjoy the perfect cup of Lolo’s coffee in the morning, and singing “Sunrise, Sunset” alongside him while he rocked in his big green chair. For me, it also meant having a “safe haven” to run to when I was scared. When I couldn’t fall asleep and my parents were already snoring, I would sneak into my grandparents’ room downstairs and wedge myself between Lola and Lolo, falling asleep to Lolo singing “Goodnight Sweetheart” after they prayed their nightly rosary. Now, I can only smile knowing that my wise and ever-protective grandfather is on his way to his own “safe haven.”


From Emil-Jake Quijano, 18:
     I will always remember Lolo for being so determined. When he had a goal in his mind, whether it be carving a pumpkin, getting the mail at the bottom of our long hill, or watering the plants, he would always put his mind to it and do it. He has taught me to never give up especially when people tell you to quit. Even though he was stubborn, he showed me that if you put your mind to it you can do it.

     He also taught me a multitude of other things. He taught me to “bahug” on my rice, which if you ask me, is quite a useful life lesson. He also taught me to appreciate American Movie Classics, old music, and how to slurp my soup to make it cooler. If you ask me, Lolo was the best snack maker in the world. Every day after elementary school he would make me the best snacks. My personal favorite was his combo of maho and rice. Even his simple love for Chinese peanuts influenced me to snack on them whenever I can. Thank you Lolo for everything you have taught me. Even though I can’t be there with you, I'll be thinking of you, especially since we have the same name! I love you!

And last but not least …from Nikko Quijano, 12:

     I was still too young to remember a lot about Lolo growing up, but every time I leave the garage I see Lolo's apple tree and it will always remind me of him. I do remember that I always saw Lolo put Lola above anything else, no matter what.

I will always love and remember you Lolo.

Lolo's Legacy

My Dad through the eyes of  his oldest grandaughter, Lindsey Anne Baguio, 25 years old.

     I see old photos of him: Emilio Suarez - tall, slender with wide-rimmed glasses. I wonder what he was like as a young man. If he was anything like the Lolo I know. I’ll remember that my Lolo and Lola took good care of me as a child, not only me but my cousins too.

     I’m the oldest granddaughter so their first stop in the United States was our house. They lived in the  room downstairs and their TV was always on. I think that’s where my appreciation for old Hollywood movies began and why I count Audrey Hepburn and Clark Gable among my favorite actors. Lolo loved to watch old black and white movies and “Bonanza” – I can still hear the theme song in my head!

     I’ll remember as he watched TV he was always munching on something. He loved to eat peanuts. He went through jars and jars of Planter’s Peanuts. And as requested, my mom made sure he had a steady supply of Wheat Thins too.

     If he wasn’t watching TV he always had something to read. I’ll remember that he nurtured my love of books and helped me become the bibliophile that I am today. I have a storage cabinet full of books to prove it. I’ll always remember… one year when I was in grade school, for a Christmas or a birthday, I asked Lolo and Lola for a book. I mailed to them the order form in Kentucky. Not only did they buy me
the requested book, they bought me the whole set.  Throughout the years he continued without fail to send us books. We never understood why he picked the ones he did but we have them, in my book cabinet! I’m planning that my future house will have a wall full of shelves just for books – my own small library - in honor of Lolo.

     From  Lolo, I also learned the definition of what it means to be passionate. I’ll remember that he was infamously known for his emotions. He had such melodramatic expressions. He was also quite the actor: I remember lying next to him one afternoon as he told me a story. I wish I could remember the plot. I just remember his many voices - high pitched and low, and his contorted facial expressions… I’ll miss his storytelling.

     From Lolo, I learned how to clean a plate..I’ll remember at each meal how he ate every last grain of rice, soaked up the last of the sauce with a piece of bread…. Never letting anything go to waste.

     Like my other three grandparents… I learned by example from Lolo the definition of faith. If he couldn’t go to church, he would watch services on TV. He also maintained a strict prayer schedule with Lola in the morning, in the afternoon and in the evening.

     One of the last memories I have of Lolo is his last night before he left the U.S. for the final time. It’s the image I’ll choose to remember him by. He was staying at our house in the downstairs room with Lola just like when I was little. I peeked in their room (like when I was little) to find them sleeping ... so peacefully… nothing unusual. But it was their position that struck me. They were lying next to each other face-to-face with their arms intertwined so lovingly.

     It is his love for Lola that will leave the most lasting impression with me. It’s because of them I have such an awesome mother - strong, responsible and faithful. It’s because of them I have six loving aunties and uncles who found just as equally loving spouses. And there’s also the numerous cousins who are always fun to visit.

Rest in peace Lolo…

Hida L. Go (THe Other Woman)

For Sylvia and Betsy and brothers two...


She comes from the plains of Spain in  the middle of rain
To comfort two brothers in the midst of their pain

One crosses the bridge just to be with her
The other waits in a room just to taste her

Skin of amber glistens as she listens 
To brothers two as they hasten
To make use of the short time
To tell her their woes over lemon and lime

She goes down smooth and warm

Always giving, never taking

Even as brothers two

End up stuporous in the morning at two

Assuaging their grief

Sharing their relief

From a brief encounter

Over the table as they banter

And when they part ways
She stays and waits
For another night of visit
From brothers two as they see fit.

The Gift (1917-2010)

You beckon in silence and I beg that you wait
Rearranging my life to fly to your side
On your last days here on earth
Before you take your final breath

You've said everything that needed to be said
In the lifetime you've spent with me
Why then do I still ask
When I know you speak no more?

Once you said you had nothing

And yet you have everything

Giving from your heart

Taking away our hurt

And when the moment comes

When you draw on that last breath

I wait until there is no more

I watch as you are no more

When did death become a beautiful thing?
When peace, tranquility and love sorrounds you
And I know that you are where you want to be
And I am where I was meant to be

I love you Daddy...

Ninety-Three

 Ninety-three is  not just a number...

     It's the number of years (and counting) you've been given to   make your mark on this planet.
     It's the number of years you've shared your love with the lives you've touched.
     It's a fraction of what you've done without so we could have all of what we've dreamed of.
     It's the number of times you've forgiven, forgotten but never forsaken... and then some.

Ninety-three is not just a number...

     It's the number of times you've told us something important and we didn't listen but now we   remember because it's hard for you to say it.
     It's the  number of times you said yes and the same number of times you said no because
          something was not for our own good.
     It's the number of times we wished we said "I love you" and the number of times we're saying  it now
           before it's too late.

    It's the  number of times you said "It's the principle of the thing" and the same number we now say the
           very same thing.

      
Ninety-three is the number of times you told us "When my ship comes in" when we now realize we were
     aboard all along.

Ninety-three is not just a number...

That's why we are celebrating it... in a big way.

Happy Birthday Daddy.

Milestones

    A child's first year is a plethora of milestones, everything and anything you can think of. And so it goes as they grow up until we get caught up in the busyness of life that at times we stop noticing and paying attention to these milestones. Like the first time your firstgrader begs you not to kiss him in public because "there's thousands of people watching!" Or the first time you get  a teacher's note and it's not good news. Or the  last time your child calls you Mommy and addresses you as Mom.

     Now and then you come into a milestone that you know you will not miss. Like a child's First Communion. The year was 2005. I had taken Jared for his Kindergarten visit in the spring prior to starting school in the fall. Waiting for him inside the church, I saw the second graders practicing for their First Communion. And just like that, without knowing anybody in that class, I catch my breath in my throat, get choked-up and teary-eyed just thinking what it would be like when Jared makes his. Needless to say when the day came it was bittersweet. That milestone meant that he was growing up and  - too soon.

     Kyle's First Communion last Sunday, April 25, 2010 was no different and yet it was just as special - maybe even more so as he was my baby. In his crisp white button-down shirt, real tie (no clip-ons thank you very much) with his school colors and formal jacket he stated very proudly that he looked like a salesman. Watching him walk down the church aisle with his class, he looked like a little man about to partake in the  symbolic blood and body of Jesus for the first time. As he read his part in the prayers of the faithful, there was a 4 second pause before he read the cue for the congregation's response and I hold my breath twice as long, afraid he had forgotten what to say next. But he did remember and the people's response was as enthusiastic as it was relieved. At the recessional, each student was handed a carnation to give to their parents. Kyle did not like the one handed  to him and opted to take the next one which made the teachers smile.

     All these make me realize that he is indeed growing into his own person, making his own choices and going through things without me being always at his side. And while I look forward to the many more milestones in his future, I hang on to the moments in between.

Ode to Kyle

As you partake for the first time
   the body and blood of  Jesus
       I pray you'll  remember always
          How and why He died for us

Spring will always be special -
     The world reborn, the season you were born
         and now your First Communion
               This misty, rainy  Sunday morn

So this prayer I offer  - for you
     my youngest one
         Let love be your gift to others and
             walk in His ways always, all ways

This I know for sure
      Your soul and the love you share is pure
             And at the end of the day
                  Thank God is all I pray

Camp Pohoka

     The weekend past was the  boyscouts' annual spring campout, this year held at the Old Ben Reservation. While the ground was still covered with last year's foliage, the trees were outfitted with their just-sprung leaves , celery-green in color and filtering sunlight throughout the day. Camping is when a walk turns into a hike, perhaps a trek when it gets to be somewhat of  a challenge. Hanging out means sitting around a campfire and making s'mores and  a gala show means stargazing out in the country. And seeing boys run around and claiming their personal walking sticks and walking across fallen logs and making mountains out of a small hill. A baby frog is a treasured find and whittling is just one more reason for parents to keep a watchful eye over the  boys. One learns not to dread the cold night ahead when daytime weather is at its perfect spring best. And  when night comes, one hears noises not heard in the city, owls calling out to each other, coyotes howling,  perhaps an invitation to rendezvous. You just hope the racoons don't find your food appetizing as they have been known  to open even an igloo container. Let's not forget the wild turkeys for your early morning wake-up call.

     The scouting philosophy when it comes to camping can't get any more Zen. Leave no trace behind. And leave the place better than when you found it. Always have a buddy with you and know where your buddy is at all times. And even though I always overpack with things I think we will need, I find that we really didn't need everything, and there are things one can do without for 24  hours or longer. And at the end of the day, all that matters is that all your loved ones are in the tent with you, be they snuggled in their sleeping bags or tucked in your heart for safe-keeping.

Moonlight So-Not-A

The moon in the sky
     Looks like a big ol' pizza pie
         Though it may just look like that
               When today I worked 15 hours flat

So shower it with mozarella
    And I'll put away the umbrella
          Pile on the pepperoni
                But please hold the macaroni

The 25-minute drive home
     Had this mind a -roam
           Am  just tired and fried
               And yet oh-so wired

I'll soon be in bed
     After being fed
          Bear with this woman -  you see
                 A few hours sleep and she'll be back to dear ol' me

The Resurrection

(pic art by rennan q)

     And what did I learn with this self-imposed silence on Facebook? That staying away from the computer was easy. Not posting anything was my vow of silence. That was easy too. The world went on without me. What was not easy was cutting myself off from family and friends. Relationships and  the connections we have are not easy things to give up. I missed out on making new friends and renewing  old acquaintances. And sharing ZenSue's thoughts. These are the stuff that's hard to let go.
     But I also renewed other connections. Spring came slowly but surely, the greening of the world after  winter and everything that came with it . The birds came back with a vengeance,excitement evident in their early-morning chatter of where they've been and what they've been up to. Perennial flowers push their way out of the ground  to see what the commotion is all about and warm sunshine lays its hands on my skin and the whole world like a blessing. Mother Nature has once again dressed up, the trees with its blossoms gorgeous.

     One realizes that though nothing stays the same, some things come back about the same time every year. Perhaps different only in how we see them, if we notice them at all.

   And yes, absence of the obvious makes it very much present. This I know for sure.