Jude: Mama, let’s go home early and drop by the flower shop so you can pick your flowers, ha?

Me to myself: Yeah, right. That sounds so romantic and exciting like picking food bits stuck in your rusty brackets.

Me out loud: I’ve told you, I do not want flowers. So forget it.

I shared the story to my officemates and they all had a good laugh. “Was he joking?” Not in the least. Shall I say, Jude is one of those few people who, when they try to do something romantic, the result is either catastrophic or comic. I think the only thing he is good at is writing me love letters. His letters were always so candid and well, they melted my brains from so much lust and love. No kidding.

9:30 PM - Thirty minutes after I got home, he arrived. I was busy giving instructions to a coworker on night shift. He brought me a bottle of Merlot and chocolates and then complained the rest of the evening of how long the queues were to the confectioneries and how difficult it was to get a cab. He ate half of the chocolate. It was 85% cocoa. I had my fill of alcohol (a few sips) and played the grateful mistress role the rest of the evening. The kids went hyper from all the serotonin boost.

satodejun: hi mamang
satodejun: Dont you miss me?
Debi Mortola: pang
Debi Mortola: i was rushing to eat lunch because i was so hungrifully
Debi Mortola: since i threw out all that i ate for breakfast
satodejun: ok
Debi Mortola: have you eaten na?
Debi Mortola: it’s almost 1 na
satodejun: nope, i had a heap full this morning remember?
satodejun: Even though it didnt come out the way i imagined it to be, but I am happy coz I know that you love me so much
Debi Mortola: hehehe
Debi Mortola: lagi.. palpukish kaayo no?
satodejun: My continental, super economy breakfast
Debi Mortola: but yes, you are so right.. i love you so much
Debi Mortola: hahahah
Debi Mortola: super economy
Debi Mortola:
satodejun: If it was served in an airliner, it would be for refugee program flights
Debi Mortola: ha! sobra ka ha
satodejun: Imagine, asa ka kita continental served with rice?
Debi Mortola: kay wala man naluto ang french toast be and there was no way to toast the bread without gasul
satodejun: and watery juice..
Debi Mortola: cge, tomorrow i will make you a new one
Debi Mortola: this time with fresh kalamansi juice
satodejun: and no coffee
Debi Mortola: tse! sobra ka kareklamador
satodejun: lagi lagi
Debi Mortola: bitaw no, maayo pa sa airline, naa coffee

yet so new.

I am talking about the way you touch me
here
and there
and how your eyes
move as they follow me around the room.
I am talking about how
I fit in your lap;
about what kissing you is like…
and; the fine silver threads
that compose your hair.
I am talking about your scent
that I seem to have absorbed from hugging you too much
and your taste
that stays in my mouth - part tobacco and part male pheromones.
I am talking about how
I do not miss you at all and yet miss you.
Is that possible?

You are to me so old,
like time itself
and yet
so new.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations that propagate fire.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you simply, without complexities or pride;
This I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

— Pablo Neruda

What if I start missing you and you cannot be found. I think I already do… but life does not come with a PC’s control-Z – the undo command so I will just have to brave the consequences of my decision.