He is sitting perfectly still on his front lawn when he notices that the sun has begun to set across the horizon. He is in his equally perfect tailor-made suit and leather black shoes for he figured that he had to look his best when he, with the others, was called. His watch reads 5:45.

His house is empty now. Rather, his former house is empty now for he has sold it to a young couple not a few days ago. The agreement is that the couple can have the house tomorrow, May 22. The money from the house, coupled with all his life-long earnings, was donated to a local charity feeding the poor in their community. Weeks prior, he gave all his possessions to his brother. His four-door sedan, on the other hand, is now in the care of his sister. He has happily and wholeheartedly given away every material and earthly thing he had. He knew those would carry no value to where he was going. His watch reads 5:51.

He looks down on his beat-up King James Bible that he placed in front of him. His face breaks into a quiet smile then. He is at peace now that his only family left, his siblings, is not going with him. In his heart, he can attest that he has tried convincing them for months but they wouldn’t hear any of it. God bless them, he thought. It’s 5:54.

He wonders what the others are doing right now. Some could be singing praises while some others could be praying either alone or in groups. Still, there could be others like him who prepared early and are now just waiting. He fancies how time always seems to slow down whenever one is on the edge of anticipation. He quickly searches his mind he has forgotten anything, something; no, he has prepared everything and is in fact, ready to go.

At 5:57, he mutters a silent prayer, “I can’t wait to behold your house, my Lord, and to walk in your garden; to listen to the ethereal harps playing endlessly in Your Kingdom. Please let me in, for I have done everything in my power to be of service to You here on Earth. Pardon me for everything that I have done that might have caused blemish to Your name and for the things that I should have done to glorify You but failed to do so. Now that the time has come, I pray you welcome me into Your loving arms.”

It is now exactly 6 in his watch. He takes a deep breath and wait. A couple of minutes passed and his next-door neighbor is still happily having barbecue on their front lawn. A very small trace of incomprehension could be seen on his face then. But he lets that passes; it could simply be a case of his watch being set a few minutes advanced or that what he has been waiting for started somewhere far and is now coming towards his location.

He continues to wait but he can no longer sit as perfectly as he could a few minutes earlier. 6:03. 6:07. 6:11. 6:13. 6:16. 6:21. 6:30. He looks again at his watch. The secondhand seems to be taunting him, laughing at him even, as it continues to move along a clockwise manner. “Hey Harold, what are you doing there sitting all alone? Come join us right over here,” called out his next-door neighbor Mrs. Camping.

At this point, he could no longer hold back the confusion and perplexity that has swelled from his heart. Feeling lost, stupid, and not knowing what to do, he unwittingly fingers the lace of his shoes. It is then when he remembers what his dearly departed mother always told him: “Whenever I miss you, I tend to our garden bare feet. Soft, wet earth comforts me. For some reason, that reminds me that you are just near.”

“Harold?”

“Yes, Mrs. Camping. Thank you for the invitation. I would be there in a minute,” answered Harold.

Harold removes his shoes and socks methodically and places them near his Bible. While he is certain that tomorrow will bring more uncertainty and anguish, he is consoled to have barbecue for dinner and the company of good neighbors for that night.

Nearing Legaspi on a Manila train,
she brews a conspiracy to be free.
In her thoughts, reside memories
of forgotten blessings and simplicity.

The world outside travels in a haze
yet solemnity takes over from within.
A bummer buzz collides with her heart -
now broken, it slowly beats to a halt

She detonates then a long detained cry
as ghosts and summer rain pour down.
Ancient beliefs holding her together
begin to crumble as she wavers.

With skinned knees she crawls out
and tries to envision what could have been.
Hidden poems and secret missions.
Train rides and desperation.

ten years ago, my legs were shorter, my step lighter, and my smile more real. i spent less time looking at the mirror, and more time haggling with my parents for a one peso coin. when they relented, i felt wealthier than any of my friends. afternoons stretched out endlessly... and i felt like i could do anything. i could watch thundercats. i could ride my bike. i could buy anything i wanted with my one peso. i could learn how to whistle!

...childhood is like water through my fingers. it is slipping and running out..and i have no way to restrain it.
except maybe through the portal that is avalon.ph.

 http://blog.avalon.ph/2009/08/win-a-signed-copy-of-adventures-in-the-dream-trade-by-neil-gaiman/

Uh, actually hindi talaga. Mga wirdong bagay lang na naisip ko at napagusapan ng mga tropa. Dagdagan ninyo na lang kung may maisip kayong iba. Dagdagan ko na lang din habang tumatagal.

1. Mabuti nang tamad, hindi naman pagod.

2. Wag muna gawin ngayon ang pwede pa namang ipagpabukas.

3. Hindi lahat nadadaan sa sorry. Kung ganoon lang din, bakit pa may pulis?

4. Pagdating sa alak, hindi ibig sabihin ng magarang bote ay masarap na inumin.

5. Kapang nagiinuman, respetuhin ang Red Horse. Wag magsisinungaling at magsisimula ng usapang hindi tatapusin.

6. Ang horse fly ay nangangagat din ng tao. Pangako.

7.Kung ayaw mo magsalita at pinilit ka, sabihin mo lang "brevity is the soul of wit." Tapos ang usapan.

8. Wag mong isiping maliit ka kumpara sa iba. Kung nararamdaman mo ito, isipin mo na lang na lahat tayo tumatae.

She feels lost most of the time. She feels as if she doesn't belong here, or anywhere else. She wants to get out, and more than that, she wants to go back.

She whiles away the time by - well, how else does someone like her pass the time? - letting it go pass her and allowing herself to be carried away wherever time goes.

She vividly remembers this senseless, rather funny conversation with a friend: "How will we get there?" "Why, ride the wind of course!" And then the friend will gesture his arms in such a way that imitates a paper or probably a leaf that is being carried away by the wind. They ride the public transport after then.

The sad thing is, that is just half of it. Because in her mind's eyes, time sometimes breaks. And it stops carrying her all of a sudden, like a ship stuck in the middle of a desert or a hapless whale brought to the shore by the waves. And when it does break, she is left with nothing to do but stand her ground and again, wait.

Parts of her are chipping off, slowly. Deliberately. And she doesn't feel anything, really. It is as if her early warning device is broken. And then one day, she looks at the mirror and realizes that parts of her are missing. And she is forever lost and unable to understand how things happened or where will she go to recover them back.

Even if time breaks, in an ironic, movie-kind of way, sun shines and light creeps in and kills the shadows. She smiles and feels happy, even for a while. And for a while, she is reminded of things delightful and things long gone and missing.

But she'd spent a little too much time waiting in the shadows already. She's learned to embrace it and be at peace with it. She is, however, still grateful that time still marches on for others. She wishes to join them again someday soon.

Hey, you look not alright again
What is the matter this time?
Pizza, beer, and us sound fine
Hey, would you like to come?

We can go some place far and high
and be alone together for a while
But not too far, not that high
because others are waiting behind

I'll listen if you need to talk and share
and I'll probably share some as well
Or we can just be quiet and stare
watch the lights dance the night away

And in between words and silence
I won't forget to slip in this one:
Our shadows look good side by side
and I want you smiling all the time

We can go some place far and high
and be alone together for a while
But not too far, not that high
because others are waiting behind

Because others are waiting for us behind

Rina finds it weird that the very minor incident that transpired between her and a vagrant man along Taft Avenue five years ago is still bothering her until now.

The rain was intermittent that early evening, with the occasional lightning that kept breaking the otherwise deep, dark sky. She was walking towards Robinson's Place to meet up with a friend she hadn't seen for a long while. Rina thought the timing was perfect; after all, she was then having a hard time with her long-time boyfriend and she badly needed someone to talk to. The wind chilled the air and Rina was without a jacket.

While walking, Rina casually slid her hand inside her pocket to get her cigarette pack and lighter. She stopped outside 7 Eleven to take a drag and send a text message to ask if her friend had already arrived. While waiting for the reply, her thoughts drifted to her problems - finances, relationships, career, and life in general; her thoughts drifted like cigarette smoke, lingering and haunting.

She continued to walk after she got the reply and upon reaching the next block, she saw the vagrant man sitting on the pavement. The man was old, probably in his mid-sixties. He was covered with dirt and he was talking to himself while all the time holding a cigarette in one hand and signaling with his other that he needed a light.

Rina saw the man and had already decided that the man's nothing but a hobo. She walk passed him and then it hit her to offer the man a light. The old man might be lost in his own upturned and disjointed world, Rina thought, but he wanted and needed a light. Rina believed she wouldn't want to be trapped in a place with a cigarette stick and with no means possible whatsoever to light it.

So, she turned around and saw that someone else had offered the vagrant a light and provided him even with a few more sticks. She was unable to move then and felt sad for reasons she still couldn't explain until now. She continued walking, having realized that there's nothing more she could do. She threw her half-smoked stick, having noticed that, after all of a sudden and even after the rain had stopped, it tasted stale and bland.