So I stand before my Poconos kitchen sink window and find the sun, rising, peeking through the bare woods. It looks like it's going to be a bright day. I've mentioned in one of my entries before that beyond that hill lives a lady who is battling lung cancer. I just found out yesterday that Helene passed away last Christmas. I only met her once when our neighbor who was her bestfriend tried to sell her floral couch to me. I obliged to take a look at it even if I knew I wasn't going to buy. The couch was too matronly for my taste. I never got to see her again. She was in our prayer list of sick people. She never knew that. Death is such a sad affair. I hope she is happy where she is now.
So the sun shone brightly and cast beautiful shadows of the bare trees on the snowy ground. I savor this scenery from my dining baywindow. That jungle gym is Zach's although he rarely plays in it. It's just not fun with the absence of playmates his size.
Promising blue skies. A crow cawing. The trees though bare are beautiful. They have such strength to endure the cold of winter. They stand tall and proud and patiently await the coming of spring. I can sense them silently raring to bud and leaf out, and they wait and wait and wait...
I thought of God. He is faithful. His love keeps coming back...wooing, comforting me...like the trees that keep leafing out after the cold winter.
I watched the morning shadows and realized there are animal tracks all around the house.
What critter is this that leaves tracks in a line? Shouldn't they come in pairs?
The animal tracks come in different sizes. The animals are looking for food. They are coming out of hibernation.
I snapped out of my (through the window) investigations and made myself Dalandan (Philippines citrus) juice. Every sip of this brings me back home to the Philippines and memories of eating the fruit itself.
I think a dalandan loaf cake is in order.
and so when you do not have the desired ingredient in hand, you just resort to sauteeing with butter and garlic and sprinkling the dish with a little bit of soy sauce.And it does the trick. Mushrooms are soo forgiving and delicious.
Dimples---that's my nickname at home. Funny thing I realize though, my siblings call me the name without the s. And when they write the name down, they do so like this---Dimpol. When people find out about my nickname, they automatically ask where my dimples are. I do have dimples on my face, only I have to be smiling, not laughing for them to show. Anyway, I hate to have to smile to simply show my dimples, so I just say my dimples are on my buns so I can't show them off. ;-)
Zachary wanted to sing, so we went down to the basement and set up the Karaoke. I've joined the bazillion of Filipinos who own karaokes at home, although it took me about 4 years before I started using it. It is really a good tool to get Zachary to practice his reading. Currently his favorite song is El Shaddai.
I draw the curtains apart so I can look outside while I listen to Zachary sing.
I never thought I would ever grieve for two people at the same time. Quite disturbing really...also confusing...
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| "Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location,a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes, this will bring hope." ----Elizabeth Gilbert |
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| "To weep is to make less the depth of grief." ----William Shakespeare |
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| I realize, my grieving sometimes is for losing my mother and kid brother...two beloved ones. Sometimes, the grieving is just for one, Other times, the grieving is for one, then for the other, alternately. I've a battered heart. |
---Colette
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| "grief is a house where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us the mirrors how to reflect us the walls how to contain us grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust that buries itself in the ground while everyone is sleeping grief is a house where no one can protect you where the younger sister will grow older than the older one where the doors no longer let you in or out." ---Jandy Nelson, The Sky is Everywhere |
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| I zoomed in to take a shot of this tangled mess. It looks like my thoughts.Well, Spring is a month away. Soon, these branches heavy with snow will grow buds, and look fresh and new. I hope my thoughts clear up with the budding of the trees. I cannot wait. |
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| My sister Agnes who was visiting from the Philippines once noted the snow on the branches and said, "Yeah, that's exactly how they paint these on Christmas cards." And she said it like it was a serendipitous moment. |
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| I looked through the other bay window. There stood the concrete birdbath waiting for it's time to welcome birds in the Spring. Perhaps, Spring will help take off some of the heaviness in the heart? |
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| I zoomed in and found some cracks at the base. The cold of harsh winter year after year has finally penetrated this faithful birdbath. Even so I know this Spring, it will continue to make birds happy with the water it will hold. It will again be a sight to behold. "Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like?" "it is the sun shining on the rain, and the rain falling on the sunshine..." --Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden |
