These days, I almost never visit this site
anymore. Unless I am feeling extra moody or utterly bored, I usually veer away
from these blog that is a house to a lot of juvenile musings and rantings. I
don’t want to be mis-quoted. I used the word, juvenile – not in an effort to
mask nor justify all the hatred and negativities of my past entries, no sir.
But as a way to come to terms with myself, and to finally accept that this once
young girl has now become, well for lack of better word, old.
Now let’s not be too harsh on the word
old, yes? Sometimes being old is a good thing. Try not to think about gnarled
hands brought by rheumatism. Stop thinking about senility and Alzheimer’s
disease. Do not even start on those adult diapers which, at some point will
have to stop being funny. For a while, let’s forget about putting an age to
being old.
Let’s think about quiet mornings with soft
breakfast conversations. Let’s talk about humming in the balcony while watching
the dust dancing in the dusky sunlight. How about finishing work on time every
single day and coming home to a dog who never stops wagging his tail? Or maybe
a lazy stroll at the grocery, finding thrills and mysteries at the vegetable
and milk lane? And how about waking up in the middle of night and re-reading
old novels while drinking milk?
There so much stories to tell these days
about me finally slowing down my pace. I never actually noticed things were
changing, but one day I realized I wasn’t rushing anymore. I laughed more and
talked less. I was finally living life as it should.
A couple of days ago, KG and I were about
to go to bed and I was at that point of losing consciousness when I turned
around and startled her with a seemingly nonsensical question. I asked,
“What did we do to deserve being happy?” She didn’t say anything. She just
smiled and hugged me and said goodnight. What she didn’t probably realize was I
got all the answers I needed right there.
These days, I sigh more not because I feel
tired but because I enjoy breathing so much. I wake up in the morning trying to
take in the smell of the air and thinking, “What a nice day this will be.” When
I walk my dog, I talk to him too, not because I want to teach him new tricks,
but because I want him to know the sound of my voice when I’m not reprimanding
him. Sometimes I still talk to myself, not unlike the past – but this time, I
just talk and not argue with my inner Jing.
I meant this entry to be short and sweet.
I just had a sudden urge to write after blog-hopping tonight. But I am
just so full of good stories to tell. I feel so much happiness I’m just about
ready to burst. For a change, this blog is being written in smiles.
