It really does seem like a dream, this season, the way it
quickly passed. Everything passes so quickly it seems. It is no surprise that I
am writing this in the dead of winter under several layers of clothing. For now
I will try to remember back to warmer days.
It was in the middle of summer when we returned from the
Philippines, the fourth of July to be exact. And we were on the plane to
Oklahoma City when everyone below started the lightshow. From 35,000 feet up,
fireworks bloomed like little supernovas amongst a galaxy of stars. Over it, the stubborn blue sky is burnt
orange on the horizon. It was a wonderful homecoming that ushered in great
things to come that summer, a season of sweet partings.
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| During a short trip to Chicago to see an old friend. |
One of the highlights of the season was my son’s first day
of school. I knew it would happen someday, but I didn’t think he would walk out
of my heart too soon. After we drove him to school, I shed a few tears. I cried
for the time that we would never get back, back when he was a baby and it was
joy to just smell his breath even if it was a little bit sour. I cried for the
many moments when I was too tired to play with him. I cried for the number of
times when I chose my computer over my son, because I had to get an article
done or process a photo that couldn’t wait. Meanwhile he sat playing alone,
waiting for me. These are the days that I knew I would never get back. These
are the days I couldn’t do over. I cried
for the future, for the times when I will lose him over and over again, when he
will let go of my hand to run to his playmates or when he’ll start to think
that he’s much too old to hold his mommy’s hand.
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| First day of school Thanks, Dr. Seuss! |
The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn on the desk represents this
major milestone in our life. It’s an Ed Press winner that I had bought way
before my son was even conceived in our head, thinking that someday, it is
story that I would like to read to my child. It’s about a mother raccoon
sending her hesitant baby off to school with a kiss on the head, a reminder
that he will always be safe, always be loved.
The book came with heart stickers for the hand, a reminder
of the kiss, of the presence of love. We had read this book several times in
the past few years and had used the sticker each time until there were only two
left. I thought I would save the book
and took it out for us to read on the eve of the first day of school, although
separation anxiety has never been as issue with us. Earlier on, we try to raise
him to be independent and to be able to explore the world even without us hovering,
but knowing that we would always be around.
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| Hanging out with new friends. |
The book was a nice little ritual to share with him before
he entered this new stage in his life. That night we used the second to the
last sticker. The next day, when we were all set to leave the house for his
first day of school, he piped out, “wait! My kissing hand!” It warmed my heart
that even with all the excitement, he had remembered the kiss. We had that one
last sticker to send him off with.
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| Summers are for playing barefoot on the grass. |
Like in spring, summer was spent a lot in our backyard,
playing (with new friends!), reading, and gardening. I never took an interest in gardening. I don’t
have the green thumb my mother had (she could grow a garden in her bedroom
window on the 15th floor right in the middle of a concrete jungle)
and the only thing that I’ve really grown was a tiny eggplant that I had to planted
for my home economics class back in grade school. I few cacti succulents have
also died on me; that should give an idea on my gardening skills. But new
friends had gotten me interested in gardening and the joys of harvesting things
to eat from our very own soil. Sometimes, neighbors would leave a bag of
produce picked from their backyard. Because we have such a huge backyard, I
thought, why not engage in a little agriculture?
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| Shoot and play |
Last spring, my son had sowed a few carrot seeds at the zoo’s
Eggcitement event and soon as they started to sprout, we planted them in our
backyard. To my surprise, they actually grew and by late summer, we harvested 2
tiny baby carrots that my entire family shared. Everyone must partake in the
bounty of our soil. I also tried growing some scallions which also grew quite
surprisingly, but I had left them out during one of the first frosts and died. Nevertheless
I consider these few attempts a success and have then sworn to go full force
come next spring. There is something very satisfying about the idea of just going
out to my garden to pick a few sprigs of basil when I’m making my spaghetti or
knowing that the onions I’m using come right out of our backyard.
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| Moon over Granada |
I’ve sort of lost steam in terms of enthusiasm for my Twitter
account but it keeps surprising me. I’ve reached the 5k mark with over 300 fans
(And as of writing – January – 12.4k followers and over 2.5k fans!). It also
continues to open doors for me, although just a crack. Last May, a
distinguished photographer and oral historian emailed about one of my
photographs: Moon over Granada. He wondered how it would look like in black and
white, adding that it reminded him of an Ansell Adam photograph. And he wrote:
Glad you see what I see; if you convert it, may I also see what it
looks like?
It reminds me so much of that photo Ansell Adams took in the
desert, I think the title was "Moonlight over (something - I can't
remember), but you should look at it sometime to see how your photo has the
same feeling...
I was beyond floored. For my work to be compared to an Ansell
Adams’s photograph and to have such an established photographer take notice of
my work (taking the time out to write to me) is such an honor and very
encouraging. I have no illusions, of course. I know that I have a lot to learn,
but every now and then a newbie like me needs some inspiration or encouragement.
If you’re in the Connecticut area, Anthony Riccio has several book tours already scheduled in the next few months.
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| Nanay and New York (she went home also on September 11) |
Since I am writing this several seasons too late, I am more
than likely to forget many more milestones. And I’ve been trying to think back
to remember the things that I need to include in the banner. But winter
currently embraces me. The chill makes me forget. It’s all like a dream, so
vivid but forgotten in the cold morning. For this reason, I decided to go with
the actual look of my desk, so I don’t have to worry about items that I may
forget to include on the banner. My desk is normally not as clean and
organized. Usually it’s cluttered with mail, scraps of paper, trash, and my
little one’s toys, but the pile of books, the box of cards sitting on the books,
the votive candle holder, the bouquet of pens, the box of tissue, the little
wooden jewelry box (a gift from a friend during her trip to Bangkok), the
wooden cross, and the little shell are staples on my desk.
And right there, right where the sun’s arms had escaped
through the window curtains, is my mother’s beautiful face, because the light
had finally found her to take her home. Near the end of the summer came the
answer to our prayers- the passing of our mother who had lain in bed, languishing
for almost three years. We are comforted knowing that she can now be her old
self: feisty, funny, and beautiful.
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| My beautiful mother. |
Whenever I return to my childhood home, I would try to bring
back something with me as a reminder of my childhood and as a way of uniting my
past and present homes. I also like to fill the house with things that have
special meaning whether it be from travel, from a friend, or a memento from the
past. I had brought with me one of my mother’s little tea sets, something she more
than likely picked up from the Tokyo International Airport (I probably got my
wanderlust from her, and my hoarding tendencies!). I also brought home some of
her pictures, one of which is on the desk reminder of how beautiful she once
was, and perhaps even more beautiful now that she is reunited with her Creator.
I wrote a tribute for her published by Pinay.com. You can read it here.
I always leave a post with a quote from one of the books
I’ve been reading, so I think it would only be appropriate to leave one from
The Kissing Hand, especially since this season was also about goodbyes between
mother and child.
Chester
took his mother’s hand in his own and unfolded her large, familiar fingers into
a fan. Nest, he leaned forward and kissed the center of her hand.
Now
you have a Kissing Hand, too, he told her. And with a gentle “Good-bye and “I
love you”, Chester turned and danced away.
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