Week 25

© Original photo by max.lindquist

On my bedroom floor laid two big boxes.

The first box, battered and worn out, was made of blue cardboard and beside it, a white box stood proud. Both were as empty as my hallway this quiet Friday evening.

Memory, said the blue box while in bold black letters, the white box said Future.

One by one I tossed in whining, fear and regret in the blue box. It was filled to the brim mainly with what if’s and could have been’s. Later I gently placed opportunity and guts side by side in the second box. With a ribbon of time I tied up friends and family and did the same to words and inspiration.

Soon, only two things were left: you and me.

With a deep, heavy sigh I placed you in the blue, battered box. I placed myself in the other.

I kissed the first box with realization and acceptance then sealed the other with appreciation and humility.

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Two Boxes by KASH

Week 24

© Abby Bayani

“Cross your eyes.”

“Close them?”

“No, cross. Trust me.”

Jessie’s words echoed in my mind on my way home from work. Christmas Eve had never been this lonely, especially with my big brother and his family gone. I’m not jealous of them going to Canada to spend the holidays, just plain sad.

My brother and I had been orphans since I was 8, he 14. Mom died with a heart attack and Dad followed her just 7 months later. Ever since then we lived with Mom’s sister, Aunt Tessa. She loved to sew clothes and I would’ve been happy about it if she didn’t force me to wear the jumper she made that screams neon pink for my first day in college. Still, she was as sweet as the cupcakes she baked for the Yuletide Season.

When Jessie got married two years ago, he moved out of Aunt Tessa’s house, leaving me behind. He was jubilant when he moved out of Aunt Tessa’s house for one, he’s getting his own house for his family and second, he doesn’t have to pretend to be happy in receiving another pair of orange pants from our aunt.

It was hard, and hurtful for a kid to accept the death of her parents. I knew Jessie had a hard time too – harder even, since he had to grow up and be my dad and come out of stories as to where Mom and Dad went.

“Cross your eyes,” said 14-year old Jessie on our way to Aunt Tessa’s house, our new home.

“Close them?”

“No, cross. Trust me.”

I did what Jessie told me, and I was amazed with what happened to the Christmas lights hanging on the houses in the neighborhood.

“What are those, Jessie?”

“They’re spirits, Sam. I’m not sure which of those, but Mom and Dad are there somewhere. Just cross your eyes when you see Christmas lights every time you miss Mom and Dad.”

It was cold outside; the chilly breeze blew past my face as the jeepney moved forward. There were two kids sitting across me– I assumed brothers and sisters – and they were competing with each other as to who gets to see Christmas lights more. Just like Jessie and I did.

“Look at those then cross your eyes,” said the little boy to his sister, pointing at the colorful display of Christmas lights.

I smiled and crossed my eyes.

And it felt more like Christmas.

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Cross-Eyed Christmas by KASH

Week 23

© Paula Nacif

It was unfair of me to avoid my mother’s calls over the past week. I know she’s just worried about me – her baby who’s now all grown-up, venturing the dangerous streets of the city just to go to college. She was extra worried this time, hearing that my boyfriend for two years dumped me for a certain Michelle.

After a listing the pro’s and the con’s, I called my mom. I instantly regretted doing so.

I apologized for avoiding her, but she demanded to see me. I only knew my mother too well; she won’t stop ‘til she gets what she wants.

“Fine, meet me at Jerry’s tomorrow. It’s at the corner of 5th street, beside Dunkin Donuts,” I said over the phone. I've never been to Jerry’s myself, but my roommate says they serve one of the best burgers in the area so I decided to see my mom there. Maybe some good meal will calm her nerves.

The place was packed when I arrived there at a little past 10 a.m. Guess this place do have awesome burgers, I thought. I sat at the only spot empty, the table by the window. I asked for two orders of their bestseller and waited for my mother.

The bell on the door rang and I turned around disappointed – still no sign of my mother. A short-haired girl wearing a pleated skirt and Oxfords entered and – I can’t be so sure – looked surprised to see me at my table. She headed to the counter; the guy behind it gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Screw you, I thought. I looked outside and pondered on what made Anton leave.

I was certain it wasn’t Valentine’s Day, but for some bizarre cupid the streets were filled with lovers – happy lovers. I took my notebook and wrote Anton, you’re a douche; my cheeks were wet after a few seconds.

Not again, I thought, and rushed to the restroom. Mascara smeared my cheeks and I reminded myself to buy a waterproof one. Or maybe just stop putting make-up altogether, especially now since I have no more reason to put them on.

I washed my face and looked at the Carol in the mirror. Her skin was dry and she had dark eye bags from lack of sleep; her eyes were tired from all the crying-to-sleep drama. “Will you ever be okay again?” I asked myself. Not sure of the answer, I went out.

The food I ordered was on the table and there was something else. Under my notebook was a sketched portrait. It took me a little while to realize that the girl in the drawing was in fact me. At the bottom it said, “Screw the douche. You’re beautiful.” I smiled. “P.S. The burgers here are delicious. Eat yours.” My smile grew broader.

I sat down and helped myself with Jerry’s Ultimate Cheeseburger. And I felt a little better.

The bell rang, signaling the arrival of my mother who invited me to her loving arms. I gave her a hug – or maybe she did – and her perfume made it feel like everything’s going to be alright.

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At Jerry's, by the Window: Carol by KASH

Week 22

© sugarlessgirl

There was a girl sitting at the table by the window at Jerry’s when I came down Friday for brunch. Regular customers of my boyfriend’s diner knew that that table has always been my usual spot that they branded it as “Susie’s table.” It’s not official, but they refuse to sit there even if the diner’s packed.

“Sorry if your spot’s taken, babe. I can’t ask her to transfer to another table,” Jerry said after giving me a kiss on the forehead when I sat by the counter.

“Don’t worry about it.”

It was the first time I saw the girl – brunette, brown eyes, lean body. She wore a blue cardigan and a pair of jeans and looked like she wasn’t getting enough sleep. Her burger and fries were left cold and untouched as she looked across the street, deep in thought.

With no regular job, I usually hangout at Jerry’s and draw out inspiration from my usual spot by the window. She was very still so I decided to draw her portrait on my Moleskin, thinking maybe I could add it to my portfolio. I was almost-finished sketching her when she pulled out a notebook from her bag, wrote on it and a tears came streaming on her cheeks. The girl headed out to the restroom.

The diner was still filled with laughter, proving my guess that no one even noticed that the girl was in tears. I know it’s impolite, but I peeked in the girl’s notebook.

Anton, you're a douche.

I smiled, reading the line that resembled my endless scrawls a few years back - college, my ex-boyfriend and I broke up. Another brokenhearted gal, tsk, I thought. Seeing that she’s not yet back from the restroom, I took her pen and wrote a small note on her portrait and left it under her notebook.

I went back to counter after and there was Jerry serving my favorite lasagna.

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At Jerry's, By the Window: Susie by KASH