Ode to a Sunday

San Mig Light and Menthols on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Tofu dripping with grease that slides like slime down your throat.
An order of deep fried french fries with garlic mayo dip.
A dash of chili, and a little sprinkle of you.
Chopsticks, ashtrays, a notebook and pens.
You take a drag on your cigarette, and sing at the top of your lungs.
Koreans sit across our table with plum nail polish.
We roll our eyes at the adolescent punks who vandalized the table beside us.
Kids lined with eyeliners, who smoked and posed as hip.
They ordered nothing but alcohol from a nearby convenience store.
Pathetic.
So out of boredom, we played SOS, Afro Hangman, and Pencil-Flick Wars.
Became sentimental, and spoke about love, life and everything else in between.
And then a realization hit: Sundays are more than beer, cigarettes and people-watching.
It's about sharing lives, thoughts, hopes and dreams,
Daydreaming and guessing what the future may bring.
Loneliness, fears, babies and marriage.
Probabilities and endless possibilities.
In this chaotic world where pieces of you get broken all the time,
We hang on to each other, knowing there is nothing else as infallible as our Sundays.
With our San Mig Light and Menthols, we continue to share our passion for life.
Caught in our own world, we laugh and we cry,
But we keep on coming back to our sanctuary: each other.
Yesterday, today and tomorrow.
All that matters is that we keep on coming back.
Armed with nothing else but our deep love
For a lazy Sunday afternoon.


April 20, 2008

Twister

Once upon a time, they were best friends.

They knew nothing could ever come between them. One was always talking about how life was cruel to him. And because she was the only person who knew him inside and out, she always knew what he needed to hear. But still he felt lonely and sad that his life was not the way he wanted. She can offer nothing but her shoulder because she could never give him what he needed the most. For him, it was more than enough... to hear her voice on the phone, and to see her as often as he could. He loved her more than anyone.

But then he met someone who occupied his thoughts and his heart. And slowly, he drifted away.

He was happy and content with the life he finally found. But then, as he always feared, everything fell apart. He wanted it to last forever, and she knew that this person was different, and mattered to him more than anyone else he has ever met.

So even if she felt like she had been forgotten, she did everything to put things back together without his knowedge. It was her best friend's happiness that mattered more than anything did. And it worked out for the best.

One day, she received a surprising message from him. "Nat, I need to see you. Can we meet up?"

And so they did.

They met at the usual place. After so many years, here they are on another lazy Sunday.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me," she said half-jokingly.

"How could I do that? You're my best friend."

"You know that will never change. I've always understood that I had to let you go to find the happiness I could never give," she said, taking his hand.

He felt that even if she meant what she said, there was a painful ring to those words. He apologized.

But she wouldn't accept it. She knew he didn't know what she did for him, but she wanted him to think that he found what he was looking for by himself. After all, that's what he needed.

"I'm dying," he said. "Doctors said I have cancer."

She was stunned and speechless. This time, she had no power to change anything. She was helpless, and again, she could offer nothing but her shoulder.