The clock strikes six o’clock in the evening in Lucban, Quezon - May 25, 2012

Do you know how it feels to be loved?

I do.

I do.

By Saturday morning, as he pressed on the gas and managed the steering wheel, he already knew with certainty that he had never felt anything like this before and staring at the window as the trees blurred, he reached for the hands which lay silently on the passenger’s seat. He didn’t know if it was at first sight, or if it was at the movie house; though, he had a pretty huge suspicion that it was over the phone. But thinking of it now, the time and place where he knew he fell in love didn’t really matter, not really. When one is in love, then he is in love. It’s as simple as that.

He recounted the conversation he had with Grandmama just a few months ago. He could vividly remember the conviction in her expression as she said, “You will find someone. I’m not kidding, I know you’ll find someone special. And when you do, you’ll know it. You’re gonna have to hold on to that someone forever.”

“How do you know when? That ‘this is it!’?” He replied slowly.

“Of course, it’s different for everybody; it can’t always be the same situations or same indicators. But in general, I believe the heart has the most to say when the time comes. The heart would just know, it could tell intuitively that.” She paused, as if archiving more files from her memories. He, throughout the years, learned that this was a habit of hers, and only something worth listening to can come after that. She straightened up and continued. “Yes, the heart is crazy—it tells you most of what makes you confused. When it rejoices it rejoices, but when you get hurt, it does nothing but amplify the pain. It says a lot of things and most of the time it’s painfully inaccurate, but not when it’s about love. Never when it’s about love. It is its business, after all. The heart is omnipotent about love, it chooses, yes, but it never fails, never chooses the wrong ones.” She giggled before she continued, “Now, do forgive my analogy… but the heart is like the leprechaun who could only lead you to your own pot of gold.”

He squeezed tighter the hands that were intertwined with his. Smiling at all the times he found his heart to be failing and inconsistent up until this point. Finally his heart had done what it was meant to do—its business; because after all, he was driving with his, in Grandmama’s words, own pot of gold.

Right by his side.

Like dots of glitters on a dark velvet sky, the stars slowly faded into view as the sun finally buried itself on the horizon. The gentle breeze sang its melody of an afternoon that cost so little, but brought so much. The trees swayed at its passing, seemingly sweeping away with it the lonesomeness that was once his.

He could feel his heart racing and every breath he took sounded like a scream in his head. His feet constantly trod on grass which covered the field. And while running on that little patch of earth, they let the world go by, believing that somehow they were at the very center of the universe as it revolved around them. Nothing else mattered, nothing ever could.

He closed his eyes for a minute and wondered how reality could have been so surreal. He took in as much as he could. He looked at the stars and thanked God. With that, the moment immortalized, etched on his heart.

Love revealed itself that day as an answered prayer to endless petitions. He gazed into those eyes and knew that he finally found something worth fighting, living and dying for—love.

I’ve been so busy with a lot of things at home and at work lately that I haven’t found the time to write any more fiction, but I’d like to attribute this partly to my enjoyment of my splendid reality which I continue to share with love.

At home, I have been preparing for my parents’ Silver Wedding Anniversary celebration this coming May. I’ve been dealing with decorations and invitations for months now and though there is nothing I would rather do than to make them happy and satisfied, I feel like I’ve been slowly feeling exhaustion. At work it is about the same MINUS the passion. I don’t understand anymore why I am where I am, and every nuance of dissatisfaction is amplified by my strong desire to fly away. Not just yet, I suppose. I will, not just yet. 

And while I am slumped at home with skeletonizing leaves with caustic soda to dye them pink later, repainting of fences and levelling of the garden grounds… while I am slumped at work with updating listing of equipment that may as well never be purchased, while I prance around the corridors executing almost-clerical tasks, and while I slave into cheer dancing for the big bosses, all I could think about is having to hear love’s voice.

This is a scanned photograph of my parents from their wedding, the film effect adds to the vintage feel of it, right? Right. Back to work! Happy Tuesday!

Manila Bay - April 8, 2012 - Easter Sunday

I said yes. It is an answer to a question I have controlled myself from asking you. I said yes because love presented itself in you—with your touch which sets fire to my iced heart, with your eyes sparkling like crystal under the blazing sun, and a smile which would put the 7 Wonders to shame.

I said yes because I had been walking through life for this long without even the slightest allusion of how wonderful it can be and now, the answer to all my doubts came. Who was I—a mere thread in the delicate, interwoven tapestry of fate—to doubt?

I said yes because I prayed a million times before and now have been answered. I said yes because God granted me so much love to give away and have now finally found the one who needed it, who wanted it. And for as long as you need it, I would willingly suffice.

I said yes. And with that, I freed myself from being owned by the world. With a single word, I was freed from the loveless state that I once inhabited. Friends, behold me now… flying high into my own golden sky, for in this blissful eternity, I am love itself.

And that’s why I said yes.