END OF THE BEND

It's a scary thought. But I am plunging down. And yet I have no inkling what's in store at the end of that bend. I don't even know where to go.

It's a hot holy week. It's heat is coupled with this itch to find another teaching job next school year.

After deciding to leave one good school for what nobler things I could do in the government and for that illusive second baby, I have tried to do a few things. A few things here and there--that's what I, a mere finite existence could do in moments like this. Of course, I wish I could also prepare my application papers for all college institutions I could possibly teach.Yes, definitely almost desperate. Unfortunately, even the typing of documents and printing them cost more than what our pockets can afford as of the moment. I wanted to go back to public school teaching this time. But nothing is sure. Not one bit. I am praying hoping things will turn out right before June comes.

Above all, I am also dying to get pregnant again hoping a part-time work in CNU perhaps,with God's go signal, would secure me a healthier, stress-free work environment for a baby boy to come soon. Ahhh, why can't success at work and a baby go together?

FINALLY A GRADUATION SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT IN AN UPSIDE-DOWN WEEK SCHEDULE

Here goes, after a long hiatus, my stomach, once again, has become replete with knots and butterflies. Today, I knew I would get all the jitters. And I did seconds before I went up on stage, and onto that pulpit. It felt like I flew there with almost a hundred pairs of flaming eyes were on me. I knew ears would not be quite patient to a graduation inspirational message that I, a rusty speaker, was about to deliver.

Well, there were about 50 preschool children with most likely 50-second short attention span. But I was more concerned with the parents. On a graduation day, it is always a drag to listen to graduation speakers. But I guess, far from a magnificent stunt, I did what I had planned to do. It was more like a modest delivery, I must say, but I only had one prayer--at least one parent to successfully absorb God's word, and I would be happy. As to who, it's God's job.

The experience was exhilarating, to say the least. The week was loaded with a lot of surprises and a lot of school papers piling up. But it went well--the speaking engagement, which almost did not push through and the test papers.

ONE STUNT DONE

Finally, some courage crept out of my weakling of a soul.

I strained to read the contortions and saw the familiar twitches of my superior's face. Resigning from work does not always come easy to me. It always feels like skin and a portion of your bones are peeling off from you. It was the longest five minutes. I am not really comfortable facing my bosses at any circumstance. But at that moment, I knew I had to say it. A decision more often than not comes with a tag price. And if faith is to be tested, one has to plunge heads down not caring how hard the crash would be or whether the concussion would prove lethal to see the light of day.

But after that air-thickening moment, I knew I did the right thing and ahhhh, at the right moment. Such timing it is today.
Strangely, after this, I feel relieved.

Ironic. Practically, I have nowhere to go, no clue as to where exactly will I earn my next payroll or when. But such is a child of faith. That's what I would like myself to become. And for whatever my resignation from this present work brings me, I am laying all my cards down. Flat.

PANIHAPON

Unya,
Sa inyong katapusang
Panihapon,
Buot ko untang
Muduol,
Mangablit
Kang Nyor Juan
O kaha
Kang Dodong Hudas,
Nga sa paghinol-hinol
sa puntil way puas.
Manghangyo,
Mukamang sa ilawom
Sa talad kan-anan.
Maghangad

Maghulat,
Iyawat mabisbisan.

Intawon pasayloa,
Kay kining babaye
Sa inyong tungod
Buot
Mutagamtam sa aras
Sa bino
Nga inyong tagay-tagayon
Karong semana santa
Atol sa tinghuwaw
Sa kasingkasing
Nakong naughan.

Litanya sa Magtutudlong Mangtas

Sige
Karong buntag
Lamyon ko ang tanan:

Ang inyong "May I go out,"
Ang mga nagpahipi
Ninyong balikas
Nga karon
Kalayaton padung
Sa akong dagway,
Ang mga katuwaron
ninyong panghuy-ab,
Ang galupad-lupad
ninyong mga huna-huna
sa tunga-tunga
Sa nagkalandrakas
ninyong "zero,"
Kay nasabyagan
Sa nagkadugong
"I don't know, Ma'am."

Sige,
Ihurot ang tanan
Iapil ang mga
Nangapan-os nga
Kasaba ni mamang
ug Tatang
Sinambogan sa
halang-halang nga
Tunglo.

Kay unya
Sa pagpamauli
Ninyong tanan
Manghilam-os ako
Atubangan
Nianang "blackboard,"
Papason ang tanan
Sa parat-parat
Nakong luha
Ug sip-on.

SOME PESKY RUCKUS

Ahh!The commotion that stress stirs. It's just so annoying. Not to mention the toxin it injects to the bloodstream of any vulnerable individual. From there this becomes evident in the coarseness of the skin, in the hollow of the eyes. I could sink with the eye socket you know, and bury myself into those facial muscles every time I have to see my poor little pale self in the mirror. A picture of a loser, I must say.

The night last night poisoned me. I even thought of lying there and not waking up for work. It is just too much of a drag lately. Last night was the last straw. It went beyond my border called IGNORING if not PATIENCE.

As always, it was about money. Or better yet, the lack of money. My mother went berserk for I gave her only 1,800 for this week when she expected 2K from me. Yes, P200 off, and she went to underworld and spewed lava at her eldest daughter, making me think the way I used to as a kid, that the P200 pesos is worth more than the scratch in her poor little daughter's heart.

Well, what can I do. Since time immemorial, she'd rather romance with the money she could get despite the difficulties even her little business has gone through. At the expense of her family, that is.

Yes, I'm yammering it all out. This keyboard and monitor will have to bear the brunt of my exasperation. See, I can't stand watching myself in the mirror in this nasty horrid ugliness, with all these silly eye bags popping out for crying out loud.

My husband had joined the fray, which made the whole thing worse. It poked the old wound of having to stay a little longer in his in-law's house for the sake of his beloved wife and work. If only, then he would have left me and his daughter just to have his own peace in his own territory.

I died at the mere thought of it.

VIN HENRY, A SON I NEVER HAD

I do have twins. Or so I thought.

Essentially, Vin Henry, my nephew, is much like Shekinah Myrrh. They have the same too-hot-to-handle temper and out-of-this-world imaginations seen in their eyes and in the flurries of their hands. In the midst of the so many similar things that they adore including books, videos, and music, the semblance just amazes me and sends me witless.

Sometimes I think they must have come from the same uterus and gene pool. Well, okay, they're first cousins alright. But such similarities need not be this stark this early.

Having Shekinah late in my midlife buys me time to wish and pray for a semblance of a near-perfect personality for my kid. But honestly, it's almost bizarre to see all those striking resemblances.

Let me start with a minor look at my simple pre-baby history.

When my younger sister delivered her first baby boy, I was won over. TOTALLY. His seemingly knowing eyes just went at every direction where the nursery room lone nurse's voice went. That is at DAY ONE. From then on, I could not keep my hands off the small guy.

I began to splurge on baby boy clothes, books, toy puzzles, even food. There was always a tug in the heart just by looking at him. My heart always took flight every time he asked for books when he tagged along with me in bookstores and department stores. When months became years, he became the kid I wanted him to be--a lover of books. He even is far advanced than his age. He devoured every information from every page--with or without colors.

Yes, he practically was my son minus the 9-month struggles and hours of labor and the nail-biting delivery that my sister went through. And for a while, I was content with such a gift as Vin Henry.

And then, via God's mercy and grace, Shekinah found her way to my uterus. Surprisingly, he became endeared to me EVEN MORE for reasons I can't put my finger on. I just took every moment in, breathed it in, and loved every minute of it. Right there, swollen belly and all, I quietly wept when I prayed for my coming baby to be just exactly like Vin Henry.

And it came to pass that Shekinah finally came. There went Vin Henry never failing to visit her until today. He was there with flailing hands, talking to her in ways only tots like them understand--playing with her with the same toys, reading his books with her, watching kids' videos with her, and practically doing anything with her even inside her crib despite my remonstrances. My guess? They share secrets and depths in the solace of their own world. Needless to say, they like each other.

Unfortunately, they likewise share the same messy tantrums. They scream, flail their hands uncontrollably, and pinched any one they can find when things don't go their way. They even have the same twitches and lines across their equally tiny faces when they smile and make faces. Startling? I told you so.

Yes, I have a daughter and a son. Actually they are not just twins. They come from the same heart. One just happens to have come from someone else's uterus.