Influences (or Why I Write the Way I Do)

Natalie Goldberg (free-flowing writing)
Clarissa Pinkola Estes (wild woman writing)
Jane Hutchison (direct-to-the-point writing)
Ernest Hemingway (simple words writing)

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Yaman's Too

it's like guijo all over again.

as i entered the condo this morning, smelled a whiff of yaman's smell in the air.  and looking at the blinds, the red and blue sofa, i recall the little girl bidding them goodbye, one by one, as we left in the afternoon of december 30th for naga. like me, Yaman exclaimed, 'bye windows, bye sofa, bye TV, bye yellow curtain, bye floor...see you again' in her nasal pitched voice that makes me cry out, 'Lord, let her just be a kid, my kid, for the rest of our lives.' she doesn't want to leave. even last night, she was pretending to be leaving also for manila, with mommy.

in another home, away from home in naga, i miss my Yaman, again and again and again. she lives in Forbeswood too. the blue, red, yellow and white condo is hers as it is her mom's. here she played on her LPS dolls and houses, hands and knees on the floor. we bathed together, she alternating between the hot shower and the cool faucet water. on the large queen sized bed, Yaman slept until 9 to 10am in the morning and in the evening, she would lie on her right as i put medication on her ear for 15 minutes, all along reading a book by her side. here we ate lunches and dinners together with Mom, whose newly-cooked rice on the first day never became stale, even on the 5th day.

now i dread going home, and being alone, again, in the blue, red, yellow and white condo. i miss the presence of my daughter. she should just be here.

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