IngliseraKuno

'You have all the freedom in the world.', he said. It was said with a mix of nonchalance, sarcasm and pain. I know this person all too well. I just something in jest, expecting another joke in reply. But I got stonewalled by the coldness by which he blurt out the sentence.  Many have opinions about the past being what it is: the past. Yet the moving from the past with all the experiences with it, joyous or otherwise, to now, is not really as easy as thinking: all is said and done, no point in bringing it up any longer. The person I am today, whether worthy of respect or not, was largely put together by my past. I was built, brick upon brick of moments from which I learned richly. Happiness, sorrow, ecstasy or seething pain, like pieces of a puzzle, are parts of my whole. I have many regrets, and when I turned fifty, it dawned on me that I have outlived my parents who were gifted with a short but bittersweet life. So I resolved to honor the privilege of living longer by the ...

Motherhood, which does not exclude those who did not actually went through birthing, is a gift. Not many are handed the privilege of touching a baby's soft skin, or sniffing the scent of milk on any part of a baby's body, or running a hand over that thin lock of hair growing on a delicate head. These are all incomparable experiences. I know all too well the magic these bring. To be an important part of God's miracles which mostly come in forms of beings bearing tiny hands and feet, no teeth, and knows mostly crying as a form of communicaton, is easy. To play the part is another story altogether. I do not speak of the forced expertise for changing diapers or burping after feeding. In my two decades or so of being a Mom, and all the struggles that came with it, I have come to the conclusion that my role as a mom of two is consumed by one force: angst. Each day of my children's life, I deal with angst. It started with my fear over Ana's insatiable curiosity of bath...

Our friendship started more than two decades back, with: 1. A 500-peso loan you issued a check for, to give my brother Allan, fare to go to Manila to look for a job. 2. A dining table you bought on installment, after I told you that Bong and I no longer had a table to eat on in our tiny pad when we were starting out. A television followed. I paid, at my own pace, to your irritation, but that did not deter you from still being there for me. (Of course you used your high-pitched voice on me with your hands propped on your waist. You are not a saint.) 3. Helping me with my hospital bills when I gave birth to Ana. Our friendship endured with: 1. The stupid decisions we both made. 2. The more stupid decisions you made. 3. The worst decisions you made, and I tolerated all of them. No if's or but's. (We are both at fault, ok?) Our friendship still remains to be what it was because: 1. I know you, you know me. And we have long accepted the fact that we are both not saints, but we do no...

There we were, Mike and I, seated at the Provincial Capitol lobby, with me doing all the talking, as usual. I was persuading him to say yes to something for 'my farmers'. At times when I am 'disturbed' by some concerns while in government, I think about that conversation and all the rest that happened after. This is my way of reassuring myself that I have done my best, and will continue to do so, as long as I am afforded the opportunities. So, yes, I am again trying to convince myself I am adequate, as a citizen, as a mother, as a person. This, after seeing a Filipino-Senior citizen on social media, bullying (I find no other apropriate word.) young people who simply fought for their rights to be heard, as hard as he was.  Two things from that conversation I remember clearly: Mike said, ' I like the way you call your beneficiaries, "my farmers"...' and, I told him, 'This is something good, Governor. You are saying 'yes' to something good....

Where his sincere smiles were once, his lips settle to smirks. From where he spoke so softly and decently once upon a time, now sarcasm and arrogance is let out profusely. Conversations, which straddled between trivial and deep, over coffee and pizza, now replaced with silence, tense and awkward, words barely exchanged. His heart, which broke into pieces from the blatant disrespect of a wife, put itself back together built upon blood running through it no longer warm. We walked the road, anywhere it led, beside him, more than what was expected from colleagues. Honesty, thoughtfulness, laughter, were some of those we experienced together.Friendships strengthened by ipad covers, luggages and 'barong tagalog'.  We were friends, or so I thought. These days make be beyond sad, disappointed, frustrated. Seeing him and how he 'is' now surfaces this mix of  anger, pity and even surprise. I ran these thoughts through my mind last night and sought to find the answer to my ...

I made terribly difficult decisions today. But I had to. I had no way out of it, since I am bound to lead by example and follow what is in the rules. Still, I was tempted to be defiant; this 'i-value-relationships-more-than-the-rules' principle of mine was put to the test. Yet better judgement and prudence dictates that this is one of those instances when I cannot fight with principles.  It is sad, though. That our lives are determined by rules which may not necessarily be fair and just, but we are boxed in it. For the past couple of years, we have 'played' with people's lives because we thought of our pride first than other's welfare. We should have exercised some humility, diplomacy and kindness. We did not. And in the process, raised false expectations, gave hope when there was none, and hung our colleagues' lives in limbo. It makes me rethink at times if I am deserving of the respect my colleagues show me.  Such is life. We tread on, not losing sight of ...