• Mommy, how does God make your bones?
• How does God make a seed?
• How does God make a leaf?
• How does God make the sky?
• How did God make your mouth?

These are just some of the questions that my  five-year-old daughter likes to throw at me . She’s at that stage when everything tickles her curiosity and fills her with wonder.  I think it’s really cute sometimes. It means her mind is working.

I don’t have the right answer to most of her questions. I’m not all that smart.  I can’t always say “Let’s go check it out in a book or the internet” because her favorite time to grill me is when I’m driving. She doesn’t want her answer later. It has to be right away. And “I don’t know” just won’t do. She  just keeps saying “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy” until I give her a satisfactory reply. I can’t understand why she has to do this just when I need to concentrate on what’s happening around me , like when I’m about to turn at an intersection , or  when I’m about to change lanes at the freeway.  I usually invent fantastic, often times stupid,  stories in response to her queries. To explain how God made seeds, I said that “He picked up a dried leaf  from the ground. He crumpled it up until it was really small, blew life into it and then….BAM! He had a seed.”  Somehow, the more outlandish my story, the more acceptable it is for her. Or, maybe it’s the way I would always say “BAM!”, Emeril Lagasse style, that gives my story an air of  credibility.

One day, an irate driver behind me honked her horn wildly and flashed me her middle finger. Changing lanes at 65 MPH while composing a tale for your child is not a very safe practice. From then on, I made sure that the radio was on, loud enough to drown out any attempt at conversation,  whenever we were together in the car.

Her theological musings far from over, she casually asked me, while I was chopping up some onions, if  Jesus died. Not knowing where the conversation was headed, I told her that he died, but he rose from the dead after three days. She paused for a few seconds to digest this bit of info. Follow-up question from her: Is he a zombie, mom?

My knife froze in midair. I turned to my son who was doing his homework on the dining table. “See what happens when you watch a movie like Resident Evil?”, I reprimanded him. I assured my daughter that her God is not a zombie. “But you said he rose from the dead, mom”, she went on.

Never, in my forty years of life on this earth, have I thought of juxtaposing my God, who is supposed to be gentle and loving, with a scary flesh-eating zombie! Crazy! I mentally shuffled the notecards in my head. How do I explain the intricacies of the christian faith to this girl? Zero. I had no answer to this one, not even a fantastic made-up story. So I went back to chopping up onions and pretended not to hear.

“You’re still alive?”, I gasped . I was rummaging among the shelves of used books at the Disabled Veterans Thrift Store when I spotted it. Barely visible in between a fat bestselling thriller and a harbound “Anna Karenina” by Leo Tolstoy was a book written by Anne Mather. I pulled it out, gently turned the pages, and read some lines to reacquaint myself with an old forgotten friend. I felt a twinge of guilt. “It’s been so long. I’ve missed you”, I murmured with fondness. Anne Mather, whose real name is Mildred Grieveson, is one of the most prolific writers of  Mills and Boon Romances. Seeing her book after so many years opened a floodgate of dormant memories:

• me – curled up in my grandmother’s rattan sofa, devouring juicy love stories until the wee hours of the morning
• my grandmother and reading buddy – setting down a tall stack of pocketbooks on the table for my consideration, then proceeding to discuss the merits of each one
• Ferdie – my grandmother’s nephew, who made weekly trips to the Iloilo City Public Library to get us our romance fix
• my grandmother – handling out a green five peso bill to her nephew to thank him for the favor
• the mezzanine floor of the Iloilo City Public Library – where I used to hang out, unmindful of the musty smell of old books mixed with the foul odor of a nearby restroom. It had an entire wall devoted to an impressive collection of well-thumbed Mills & Boon, Harlequin, Silhouette, and Barbara Cartland romance paperbacks.
• me – going to school lightheaded from lack of sleep. I would have had better grades in chemistry and trigonometry if I hadn’t been such a romance junkie.
• my father – snatching a book from my hands, flinging it across the room, yelling “trash!”
• my Comparative Literature professor – tossing her head haughtily and in her cattiest voice exclaiming “Romance novels! Hmmph!”

It’s been more than two decades since I outgrew this genre! My grandmother is in her late nineties, her mind no longer as sharp as when she was a sociology professor at the Central Philippine University.  She lives far, far away, across the pacific. Maybe she doesn’t remember me anymore. I wonder if I will ever see her again. Ferdie, her nephew, whose brain was damaged by an accident, has taken to wandering the streets of Iloilo City after his mother died and his sisters abandoned him. The old city hall building that used to house the Iloilo City Public Library is gone. In its place is a snazzier structure. After his stroke, my father now moves like a frail old man. I doubt if he still has the strength to be flinging things around. My literature professor has been retired for a long time. I was glad to be rid of her snooty academic standards.

Funny how a single word, like a key, can release images and emotions long tucked away. Sudden as a flash flood, they rush at you, overwhelm you, and leave you with a heavy feeling in your heart. Anne Mather, I never knew you had that kind of power over me.

]]> http://chiquibaylon.net/2012/02/hello-old-friend/feed/ 5 http://chiquibaylon.net/2012/02/first-blooms-of-the-year/ http://chiquibaylon.net/2012/02/first-blooms-of-the-year/#comments Thu, 09 Feb 2012 15:25:25 +0000 Chiqui http://chiquibaylon.net/?p=2787 I’ve been feeling like a loser. Last Monday I told my husband and my boss that I was quitting my job of three months because of childcare concerns. For a housewife who hasn’t been working for five years, getting that job was almost like a miracle. In this tough economy, when a lot of people are unemployed, I shouldn’t have let it go. But I did. And for a good reason.

My friends and my mother reassured me that my decision was the best course of action. My husband, however, thinks differently. Disappointment hangs heavy like a thick fog in the atmosphere of our home. He rarely talks to me and when he does his voice vibrates with controlled irritation. I am disappointed, too. Earning my own money gave me a feeling of empowerment. I will no longer have that. What  can I do? How can I be financially productive? These questions plague my every waking moment, driving me crazy.

Today, I took a peek at my tiny untended, not-so-pretty garden. Not having a job again means I would have more time for it. My pepper plants were still as scrawny as ever. The sweet potato vines never recovered from the pruning that I had given it last fall. Maybe it’s just waiting for a warmer weather. I remain hopeful. But what made my heart leap for joy were the anemones and daffodils in bloom.  They never flowered when I planted them last year and they looked so unhealthy. I had concluded that they’d never amount to anything much, but I never got around to pulling them out.  Seeing their glorious display today was such a wonderful surprise! I didn’t even notice a single tiny bud last week. Nothing at all. And now….I see pretty flowers!

You know what happened? The fog that was wrapped around me like a shroud began to dissipate. It hit me – I may not think much of myself right now, but something beautiful is waiting for me out there. I just have to be patient.Like this daffodil, all I need is time. I, too will bloom beautifully like her. I, too will have my place in the sun.

Once again I found solace in God’s creation. Once again He spoke to me when I least expected it. He threw me a lifeline at a time when I was drowning in a sea of anxiety. Now my head is above water and I can keep swimming.

My favorite picture. Isn’t she pretty? My lemonqueen sunflower. Last spring was the first time I ever planted a sunflower.  When summer came I was rewarded with not just one, but lots of golden beauties. My neighbors were drawn to it. Some of them stole a flower or two, which infuriated and delighted me at the same time. The product of my hardwork was simply irresistible. Jesus, my nextdoor neighbor,  always complimented them. They were my pride and joy.

The resident grasshopper. I sprayed him with a solution of water and detergent. It wasn’t good enough. Next I sprayed him with a water and chili pepper solution. Didn’t work. So I said, “OK, you can stay. Just don’t eat too much or i’ll squash you with a rock.”

Almost as big as a plate in diameter, mammoth sunflowers don’t last as long as the smaller lemonqueen variety. Their petals curl up just after two days of being fully unfurled. They start drooping. It’s probably because they’re heavy with seeds. They’re not the best variety to plant if you want to attract birds to your garden. Nobody even bothered to snack on their seeds. They must have been too tough and too big for tiny mouths.

By September my neighbor no longer said, “O, they’re so beautiful!” He just asked me, “What’s wrong with them? ” Autumn was coming and their time was up. I was feeling a bit sad to see them waste away. On a particularly hot day, as a sat by my daughter’s bedroom window, I heard a distinctly different bird sound. Not the usual house sparrow bird call. They seemed to be coming from my dying sunflowers. Six birds were hanging upside down, feasting on the seeds of my wilted lemonqueens. It was a feeding frenzy! They were not just house sparrows or house finches. They were American Goldfinches! But wait? I was puzzled why they were gray instead of  bright yellow green. I found out that the American Goldfinch starts molting in the late summer. Their bright yellow green feathers start turning gray. Wouldn’t it be nice to have watched them in their more colorful attire?

It warms my heart to know that I have given God’s tiny creatures some moments of excitement and satiety. I’ll be planting lemonqueens again this coming spring.

]]> http://chiquibaylon.net/2012/01/warm-memories/feed/ 0 http://chiquibaylon.net/2011/06/images-of-may/ http://chiquibaylon.net/2011/06/images-of-may/#comments Thu, 09 Jun 2011 14:19:39 +0000 Chiqui http://chiquibaylon.net/?p=2613

April and pink trees gone

Purple Jacarandas

Reign in May

snow in winter

warm sunshines

purple rain

Above is  one of the prettier pictures I took during an April trip to Descanso Gardens in Pasadena, CA. My friend, Gina, in a pink wide-brimmed hat, is seated on the grass, flashing a smile that’s as fragile as the pink double petals of the kwanzan cherry tree. She likes to visit and admire flower gardens every spring with that heavy camera of hers. Last year she convinced me and other friends to go to the Flower Fields in Carlsbad, San Diego. This year it’s Descanso. Next year she’s thinking of the wild poppy fields of Lancaster.  She lugs her cumbersome equipment everywhere she goes: the market, the church, the laundry, and her work. She’s starting to feel back pains. Her pictures are beautiful even though she doesn’t give a hoot about the technical workings of her gadget. She’s filled up her computer storage with photos and hasn’t earned a penny from all the effort. It’s never fun to be everybody’s official photographer. You’re always out of the picture. I had to push hard to get her to pose for me.

Rupert, my son, is busy clicking away. I lent him my old point-and-shoot camera for the day. My son and my husband share a trait that irritates me to the high heavens. They can’t seem to find the things they need. Then they come to me with that helpless tone in their voice and I’m supposed to understand that they want me to look for whatever it is that they can’t find for themselves. I’ve told my son again and again that if he keeps it up, he’s going to turn into a pineapple someday. There’s this Philippine legend about the origin of the pineapple. Once there was a girl who was too lazy to look for the stuff  she needed . She always asked her mother to do it for her. One day her mom got so mad that she blurted out: I wish you had a lot of eyes so you’ll always find whatever you’re searching for. The next day  the girl was gone and in her place was a pineapple, a fruit that was covered with “eyes”.  I don’t want my son to transform into a pineapple, but maybe he’ll get “more eyes” if he uses the camera more often. Maybe he’ll be more observant. That is my hope.

It was a nice warm spring day. These flowers made me think of  Magnolia Ube-Langka icecream.

The heat wasn’t so bad. Thanks to all the tall trees around. This is one of my favorite pictures, taken while I was riding the kiddie train. Wouldn’t it be nice to lay a blanket on the grass and have a picnic? Or just sleep? Or maybe read a book? Beautiful.

Sunny side up eggs! As flat and as tiny as quarters. These were just minor flowers. Noboby paid them much attention. I thought they were cute.

A friend kept telling me that I should have gone to her house if I just wanted to take pictures of camellias. I curbed my annoyance and went on with my business. Yes, a camellia is very common, but that doesn’t subtract from its beauty. When I had chosen  the most picture-perfect bloom, I couldn’t help showering it with praises. “You are so symmetrical!”  I said over and over, a line I borrowed from Adrian Monk.

At the Chaparral Trail. It’s a bunny! It’s a rabbit! No, it’s a hare! These kids were arguing about the brown furry creature darting in the underbrush.

This picture was taken by my son. Isn’t there an impressionist painting that looks like this? There’s something about a mommy duck swimming with her ducklings behind her that makes me smile. Sometimes a curious baby ducky  takes too much time exploring among the lily pads and gets left behind. When she raises her head, her mom and siblings are nowhere to be seen.  In a panic she paddles with all her might to catch up with them, but she’s just not fast enough. So she pulls her feet out of the water and runs fast as lightning on the surface of the pond. Amazing! Just like jesus.

They’re not as beautiful, not as perfect, and not as popular as the rose. They don’t inspire as much poetry, romance, and seduction, but I’d really rather be smelling the lilacs. Roses are too much, too heady for me. Lilac fragrance is subtle and delicate. You smell one bunch and you just want to keep on sniffing. Like a dog. My behaviour must have puzzled my daughter. And wanting to understand what i was doing, she also went from bush to bush, grabbing bunches of purple flowers, burying her head among them and  inhaling deeply. Notice that her eyes are closed. She must have been enjoying herself immensely.  I want to make another pilgrimage to Descanso next spring. I will get lost in the lilac garden and have myself an olfactory feast.

]]> http://chiquibaylon.net/2011/05/spring-pilgrimage/feed/ 0 http://chiquibaylon.net/2010/05/flying-kites/ http://chiquibaylon.net/2010/05/flying-kites/#comments Thu, 13 May 2010 21:17:02 +0000 Chiqui http://chiquibaylon.net/?p=1943

The best things in life are not always free. Sometimes they’re cheap. Like that kite up there. It only cost me .99 cents at the 99 Cents Store. Flying it at the beach – priceless. I’m starting to sound like a credit card ad here, but it’s the truth.

It’s automatic. A grin pops up on your face when you look up at the kite you’re flying. Somehow, the thin string that connects you to that glorious, soaring thing in the sky makes you feel one with it. Flying a kite makes me feel birdlike. It lifts my spirit off the ground.

And while I stand there, filled with awe, my toes digging in the sand, and my neck stiff from craning backward, I would silently recall the lines of a poem that, as an eight-year-old, I had recited for Ms. Cajelo, my stick-wielding second grade teacher.

I often sit and wish that I

Could be a kite up in the sky.

And ride upon the breeze and go,

Whichever way I chance to blow.

Then I could look beyond the town,

And see the river winding down,

And follow all the ships that sail

Like me before a merry gale,

Until at last, with them I come

To some place with a foreign name.

When I see my kids enjoy it as much as I do, that’s an added bonus. I give myself a pat on the back. I’m a good parent.

Have a closer look at my little girl’s face below. She’s holding a string. That’s the first time she ever flew a kite. And she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

]]> http://chiquibaylon.net/2010/05/flying-kites/feed/ 10 http://chiquibaylon.net/2010/05/between-jessi-and-me/ http://chiquibaylon.net/2010/05/between-jessi-and-me/#comments Fri, 30 Apr 2010 18:08:47 +0000 Chiqui http://chiquibaylon.net/?p=1909

They’re gonna bury you today. I can’t be there to pay my last respects. Good thing everyone has left the house, sugar dad to work and the kids to school. I can bleat like a sheep for as loud and as long as I want without any curious little voices asking me what’s wrong.

I have put on my one-and-only, faded purple shirt. I have a picture of a purple flower, picked from my neighbor’s garden when no one was looking, and I’ve posted it just right up there. That’s for you, Jess. Purple for the pancreatic cancer that you battled bravely for two short years.

Here I go again. I’m starting to feel it rising up my chest. Any second now the waterworks will be turned on. I’ve been feeling like a weepy drama queen since last Saturday night, when I suspected that you had died. I shouldn’t be like this, you know. You’re not even a best friend, or a close relative. You’re just a so-so friend, whom I haven’t seen or heard from for close to fifteen years. Then came facebook…and we got reconnected. I suppose now we’re disconnected again. But you left me something valuable. I have copied and saved our facebook message thread below. It will go into a special part of my memory box.

Between Jessi Catedrilla-Palmares and You

Veronica Illenberger Baylon September 7, 2009 at 9:56am

kumusta ang imo mga tests, jess? I hope they were ok.

Jessi Catedrilla-Palmares September 8, 2009 at 6:12am

Chiqui! Ulihi ka na imo ya! Ga-paspasanay na di, wala ka pa ya kapanginlaman! hahaha! They came back with liver lesions and a few lymph node involvements so they staged it at St IV (bisan isa lang ka lymph node ara, it’s a stage IV) but I’m not gonna be put out by any “stage” or whatever. It’s all up to Him this time and I’ve offered up everything to Him. Through Mama Mary, I know I’ll be heard. So, pitch in a prayer for me too, OK? I started chemo last week. Will get it every 2 weeks for a couple of months then we check the scan again. Thanks for being there….it really makes a difference in how I see life everyday, knowing I have friends who care. Take it easy…

Veronica Illenberger Baylon September 8, 2009 at 10:39am

Jess, I’m so sorry.I feel so bad for your kids. It must be hard for them. But I know you don’t want people to feel bad for you. Sige I’ll pray for you and your family.

Jessi Catedrilla-Palmares September 8, 2009 at 12:18pm

Thanks, Chiq! The kids have been resilient through all of this. They keep praying . They keep my spirits up coz they’re so positive. The little one doesn’t understand. But the three have been so positive throughout this whole ordeal. Thanks…I’ll need those prayers.

Veronica Illenberger Baylon September 16, 2009 at 5:42am

jess, I read about Patrick Swayze. remembered you and said a little prayer for you n your family. i hope you will always be beautiful.  sometimes, no, make it most of the time, I get irritated by your status updates that are oozing with sunshine (that’s just the way I am-vinegary). but whenever I find myself overwhelmed and defeated by my pretty problems, I think -Why can’t I be as positive as Jessi?  you are my sunshine, I guess. God put me in touch with you to remind me that I should be thankful I’m as healthy as a horse. I have nothing to complain about. Thank you. I hope God will not take away my sunshine. Be healthy, OK?

Jessi Catedrilla-Palmares September 17, 2009 at 4:52pm

hahaha! As usual, you crack me up! It’s not always easy putting that smile on my face. I have to face the mirror some days and talk myself through it like I’m talking to a friend. It’s mostly easier said than done, especially on days when I’m not feeling so swell. However, it’s always mind over body. Keep me in your prayers—I need them more now than ever. Sometimes, my emotions get the better of me too. Those are the times I need your prayers. I can’t allow myself some slack emotionally…I give myself time to cry but I do want to appreciate every moment. And it’s hard when you’re depressed. Thanks, Chiq!

Veronica Illenberger Baylon April 25 at 3:18am

Jess, naano ka na? Why r all these people saying “I will miss you” ? It’s 3 AM, I was just about to sleep after watching a movie. I checked FB on my phone for the last time n I saw all those messages for u on your wall. I hope u r still hanging on in there. I hope my worst fears are wrong. My god! I’m so upset now. I don’t think I can sleep. Jess, please be there.

Sent via Facebook Mobile

Veronica Illenberger Baylon April 28 at 1:20pm

my god, jessi mae! nasubuan gid ko sang tanan nga posts about your funeral. i know you can’t read this, but i’m writing to you just the same. I don’t really want to make any wall posts about my real feelings, but right now tears are streaming down my face. I can’t believe you are gone. I always thought you’d beat this cancer crap, that’s why, though we were never close friends, the news of your death hit me hard. I keep expecting you to respond to this email right away. that’s how you are. u respond right away. and now there’s nobody there at the other end. it doesn’t matter. i will keep writing to you because it comforts me to do so.

and to think I was thinking of writing to you to suggest that you eat lots of cabbages because they have the best and most effective cancer-fighting chemicals. I don’t know if i did send that email. maybe I deleted it. You must have been at the ICU at that time. I will miss you.

Tiny leaves spread out

Embracing the sun

Why do plants

Do their growing

When we’re not watching?

]]> http://chiquibaylon.net/2010/01/honing-my-haiku-eye-3/feed/ 0 http://chiquibaylon.net/2009/02/fear-forclosure/ http://chiquibaylon.net/2009/02/fear-forclosure/#comments Thu, 19 Feb 2009 09:22:40 +0000 Chiqui http://chiquibaylon.net/?p=852

alternative solution to real estate difficulties

There’s a lot of that kind of question in my bulk mail these days. Many people we know have lost their homes or are in the process of leaving their homes.  That’s really sad.  Times like these call for desperate measures.  You need Chinese “pampasuerte”.  You may not be a firm believer in these feng shui lucky charms (like me), but what the heck — when you’re in a quandary, you need all the help you can get.  

Years ago I gave my Chinese friend an elephant figurine. She claims it brought her luck. She was able to buy a house.  So this year, she returned the favor.  We met at Chinatown during Chinese New Year and she presented me with a cute,white elephant figurine. So much nicer than what I got for her. She told me that it might help me buy a house. Nice thought. I’m looking forward to the good fortune it brings.   The elephant is a also a house guardian.  It keeps your home safe.  If you know people  with real estate  problems,  give them an elephant figurine (make sure that its trunk is upturned). If it doesn’t work its magic, at least your thoughtfulness can cheer them up.