It is not that surprises are sudden. It is that the more important it is, the more belated it comes.
Yesterday, I had one of the most overwhelming days of my life. It was too striking, you cannot expect me to be exact.
I started it a 6:30 in the morning. I promised my brother breakfast at Figaro and then I'd watch his recital. Being too early, I almost dismissed my promise. I still wanted to sleep. "Gumising ka na, ihahatid ko kayo... Gustong-gusto kang makasama ng kaptid mo, tapos" the aposiopesis voiced by my mother was enough to wake me up.
I'd been promising my brother breakfast at this place and that, but kept on cancelling, because I was too lazy to wake up. I knew he gets frustrated every time and I also knew that that frustration thaws at the end of the day. But the point was I promised, and I had him hope in excitement every time.
Yes, yes, I cherish breakfasts. I guess the reason why I value it so much is because I rarely have it.
Russel Sherman: "No grammar, no drama!"
The afternoon was spent watching "Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros," which conflicts, story and characters I loved. (I don't know about the other elements that make a good film good.)
Besides, it had a happy, intelligent ending. (If art were to improve--on--life,) I knew that Maxi would just walk on.
And the night, oh, the night! We had a Christmas party at Heidi's house. I realized I missed that crowd. Those friends whom when they kiss in greeting or goodbye, they kiss with their lips resting seconds on your cheek. Whom when they hug, they squeeze. Their weight and warmth tarry.
The food was delicious and overflowing, to say the least. The rooftop was blessed by Mama Mary, because she was there! Her statue, I mean.
And because all of us carried fresh problems, defeats and disappointments with us, we didn't talk through the morning. We sang, thanks to Heidi's Magic Singalong Microphone.
We danced too. Dancing, something I should do more often.
It is most amazing for me when I find people articulate ideas that have been figuring in my mind for so long. They say it and then there it is: formed. Even final. And then comes the poem that strips its own finality.
I was talking to an 8 year old Korean girl three days ago and I asked her what she thought a good teacher should be. Her consideration took long, till she said, "friendly." She was still catching her breath when she mouthed, "and a little angry."
What's in a "thank you"?
In everyday life, or at least in mine, the import of how words are meant becomes more important than what is said or how, even when, especially when you cannot see clearly the cause of its utterance. As in the conditions of a "thank you" without warning.
It's 4 days before Christmas and how nice it would feel hearing and saying that "thank you" and "thanks for you." Nicer, of course, when unexpected, in contexts of who and when it's said.
* Gloria Estefan, "Words Get In The Way"