The laundry heap is just going to have to wait because the erratic whims of Davao weather in August says so. With that workout out of the way, the next in line in this cloudy morning, after the plates and the pans, is thankfully, coffee.
Story of my life for the next three weeks.
My son is still in Dadiangas on vacation and Nanay is back in dutchy Nederland for studies. I am here, the lone and official sentinel of House Asgard, watching the grass grow. We messenger-chat at nighttime of course, and constantly laugh about our family being split three-ways like our cakes, but it’s all good really, until at 2am, that is. It’s when I finally turn off all house lights and head back to an empty bed.
One consoling thought today though, I got an invite this morning for another little reunion with college friends. l I had to beg off because the weeds were taking over.
One thing you realize during these home alone times; the world outside spins and turns, while yours is that tiny satellite that hovers above keeping still. It is like watching the parade go by and you feel with it, but you’re out of it. How does that Hotdog song go again? “In na in pero out pa rin…”
Not fun at all, when you think about it, especially for me who has been used to endless conversations and debates in the house, thanks to my two mateys. Now, the silence that usually comes with being alone is duct tape over the mouth, forcing my voice back inside my head. No time to gag though, because despite everything, it’s really not so bad, and there is an upside that is also rewarding.
Alone time. It’s as proverbial as Jesus in the desert. You begin to talk to yourself in your head so much, you come to realize that, that little grey prison is not such a terrible place after all.
Inside your dungeon mind, the list of “What-to-dos”, your present chores, is in constant conflict with invasive daydreams and playbacks of the past, while you in the middle, play judge, jury and commentator and actually liking it.
Eventually, a sneaking feeling you’ve been through these before, leads to panic. There is still much to do, and a tiny voice in the background nags, “Laundry!”.
My mental chitchat state may project me to neighbors and others, as someone in silent reflection, and it might as well be. I used to hate that word, especially when the priests in high school invoked us to it during holy week retreats. Alas, unlike that young and restless version, I have come to learn to enjoy it now, the inner chat, er reflection. Perhaps the years had provided me with so much ammo to reflect on finally, or there is just so much junk to sort out still.
Whatever, at these home-alone times, I liken myself to a bespectacled librarian, thriving in the mute-ness and peace that comes with silence and demanding it of anyone inside his realm.
Today however, that spoiled kid brat of a neighbor won’t stop bawling and he’s invading into my grey prison. One good thing though, he has wakened me from all my home-alone reruns and the sun is finally out. For the love of Odin, my reality battle awaits. Laundry!
HONORING MY MOTHER
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