Ponder...

When was the last time you did something for the first time?

Grocery

Doing the groceries was once a task I looked forward to. It was usually a Saturday morning or in the afternoon on a weekday when I would meet up with my Mom to accompany her to the grocery store. I usually did my own thing (school stuff, friends stuff, or boyfriend stuff) first before the groceries.

The grocery store occupies half the first floor at a popular mall in my hometown, about two-thirds the size of Megamall's Supermarket. Its floors are shiny and white. The aisles in between shelves are comfortably big enough. The goods and produce are organized accordingly. It doesn't smell fishy and the airconditioning makes you forget it is warm and humid outside.

Notably surprising was how quiet the people doing the groceries were. It was as if conversations should be had at hushed tones and rarely did Serendipity favor a chance meeting between friends or relatives.

It has been 5 years since I last did my grocery there. Looking back, the grocery store was a sanctuary, a refuge from a stressful environment at home: going over the shelved items, running my fingers down labels, helping Mom figure how many of each kind, and silently planning of a strategic way to sneak a bar of Toblerone into the cart without Mom having the chance to say "No".

Today, the nearest I get to sanctuary is Rustan's supermarket but I always end up with a few items on my grocery list I have yet to cross out. Megamall's supermarket holds more items, more variants, and is considerably cheaper BUT all's a hubbub in there-- the moment I am graciously offered a grocery cart, I want to rush the hell out of that place.

I'm contemplating going to a weekend market instead. How about we go back to Salcedo?

Ponder...

"Into each Life, some rain must fall."

Rain Thoughts

It started drizzling and for a seven-year old girl, it was like the ice cream man’s bell ringing. She started for the door but grandmother stopped her. “Ok,” said grandmother, “but only for a little while.” Mother, always the cool woman she was, simply smiled. Grandfather stared straight ahead but she knew him too well. He was her favorite of all.

The door flew open and freedom smelled of grass and wet earth. Children’s laughter, and teeth chattering, blended melodiously with the spatter of raindrops on rooftops nearby. And then it poured. It poured heavily. The voices grew louder. The spatter turned to splatter and there were splashes everywhere. The children jumped from one puddle to another joyfully, delighted in what the heavens have brought them. “’Tis not going to rain this hard tomorrow so let us steal as much time away from home as we can!”

Memories of a decade gone by, of thousands of isles away, and of innocence lost. Today, when it rains, it simply pours. I sit by the window, take a careful sip from my cup, and stare out, a bit annoyingly. Sometimes I catch myself hoping for children to be out there like we used to but I seldom find any. I muse at the thought of starting for the door like I used to and Grandmother would stop me like she used to, and jump in the rain and linger there as if it were my last.

Ponder...

For mortals who have to go through life, its twists and turns– life sucks or rocks! Either way, you have to live it.