THERE WERE FOUR fireflies last Sunday night. The first two were flying independently of the others while the second pair seemed like a couple, blinking in unison and in parallel flight until they decided to separate and resume unaided in their survey of my sanctuary. The winged night flyers are a constant sight lately I now use my night lamp to magnify their intermittent flashes in the dark.
Goosies assailed me when I recalled Cita telling the tale of her and my wife’s trip to the Tapsilogan where the former’s son Renzo works. She handed him at once the rosary I gave him, mildly castigating him for getting sick because he left it behind (I also gave her another set of Marian beads). The next day, Renzo texted her that his fever was gone and he has gone back to work. I blessed Cita for believing.
And mentally thanked my other friends/Ates Ana Marie, Baby, Becky, Belle, Angel, Susan, Taki, Del, Eva, Gelly, Relly, Gel, Ye, Gigi, Carrot, Jojie, Sheila, Joan, Laila, Malou, Merlin, Mila, Pinky, Lisa, Lyn, Marlyn, Irene, Mel, Esther, Diane, Suzette, Ester, Lei, Mel, Bing, Rudi, Sheryl, Jean, Amy, Thelma, Emma, Letty, Ela, Irene, Isa, Rose, Tess, Mares Kite and Ligaya and many more for their motherly/sisterly influence on me.
And my male pals, Kuyas Noel, Arnel, Gemer, Vic, Tony, Rhoel, Nestor, Don, Buboy, Rey, Jun, Parengs John and Noel and many others whose names may slip my septuagenarian memory but not my unforgetting heart.
I started the 3 o’clock habit as soon it was prescribed. I regret to admit that I used to do it in an off-and-on way, without the heart therefor. Until I read about its import in “Consoling the Heart of Jesus,” a DIY Retreat Book by Fr. Michael Gaitley, MIC. It was lent to me by Ate Myla, a fellow BEC bible-sharer, pilgrim and searcher. Its pull was so intense I had to set two alarms in order not to miss it. Even if I already pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet before the nightly rosary, the habit is my retroactive consolation for Jesus, whose divine mercy does not cease suffering for us, in spite of our perception that He is happy in heaven. Because my feeling is that He will be happiest when we are all ready, sinless and willing for His Second Coming. Only that can pull me off it.
Milktea is now happily ensconced in the loving collective lap of Kuya Gemer’s family, with no less than his eldest daughter Kim as self-appointed groomer and PA (Pet Assistant). On the day that I gave him away, she lost no time in bathing her before ridding him of ticks he acquired from the litter and their mother. Then she fitted him with a shirt and took his picture while he and Spotty got acquainted. His tenacity was toned down by the basic love for pets of the family, sufficiently supported by three dogs bigger than (but filial to) him. If not soon enough, they’ll all mingle surely later when they’ve butt-sniffed one another.
Euphoria having died down, I can now tell (uninterrupted) of the day before, during and after my birthday (October 28). It started when Ates Marivic and Veron planned a repeat dinner at Mandarin Sky (they like the seafood so much and the not-so-upscale price of the menu we’ve been there twice already). The others who were included in the treat were Ates Bubbles, Car and Ofel but for varied reasons did not make it. But their absence was ably compensated for by Ate Vi’s surprise – Fr. Fed, our AMQAH national director and common friend! Long story short, they had a cake (which the waiter rummaged a tea candle for), polvoron, a sleeping St. Joseph, a TTJ face mask, an ongpao and an overflow of love.
On the day itself, my brother Sunny had his own surprise to spring. He said he and wife Marie will leave Laguna at 12 noon, so I loaded up my data-only cp to monitor their trip, this being their first long trip since the onset of the pandemic. It was strange that, after he texted that Sucat was traffic-heavy at 3:30 pm, that was the only message I got. He did not reply when I told him that, to save them from tricycle fare, Aes and I will fetch them at Petron by the highway, where they’ll meet us up. Until he did text me finally that they were already at the BF gate, followed by a confirmatory call. Aes and I at once drove to where they were. I saw them by the guardhouse but did not recognize Ramiel and Ritchie, Marie’s kids, who were with them. They rode in tandem on two separate motorbikes. Sunny said it was Ritchie’s idea, because they missed me at Marie’s birthday celebration last July. I escorted them past the guards before leaving with Aes to buy wine and ice. They brought liquor and viands which made the party seemingly arranged because the only liquid lacking was beer for Aes. When Kuya Gemer arrived with daughter Kim, he had another bottle of red wine, making a total of four, a fitting tribute to my cold turkey from gout-inducing liquids. Ate Lyn came, driven by Kuya Dennis, but could not stay. She only delivered a cake, briefly chatted with Myrna, and begged off easily because Kuya Don, her husband, had an early field appointment the next day. There was no videoke, ergo, no noise, but Sunny and I managed to squeeze in a duet of an old favorite. The night was simple, complete and celebratory. No grand preparation, just what my austere means could afford (supported greatly by another envelope from my BEC family), while the avalanche of well-wishing kept pouring in. More than the rains of the day before. We all slept in the lanai, huddled like family and cradled in the happy thoughts of the celebration that estrangement brought together in joyful reunion. They woke up early and motored off before the dawn became morning. Marie texted later that they reached home at 7:30. All in one, safe, well piece. Then the fb greetings started again. Amen.