The New Day

It had been a sleepless night. The thought of the next day kept him anxious and preoccupied. His feeble attempts to get some rest vanished as the room he had called home for the past two years grew brighter. The relentless sun had broken through the darkness, and now the world was awakening to its almighty presence. On the table beside him, his phone rang, urging him to wake up. He had already surrendered to consciousness hours before the electronic call.

He stood up in the nearly empty room. On one side, packed bags reminded him of what lay ahead. Without a sound, he moved into the bathroom to perform the "ceremonies of the civilized world." The person staring back at him in the mirror had a toothbrush in his mouth, tired eyes, and unkempt hair. As he gazed at his reflection, thoughts of home flooded his mind. He remembered how his mother used to force him awake every morning, putting a toothbrush in his hand. He could still picture her wide-eyed and fuming, but he also recalled the beautiful color of her hair and her gentle, caring eyes. He wondered how she looked now.

The sun had started its climb across the sky. The horses pulling its chariot never seemed to fall victim to tardiness. He, however, had been late for everything recently. Late for the classes where conformity was taught, late for the communal meetings where his kin drowned themselves in alcohol, and late for the milestones of life. His peers thought he had lost interest in things, while his family remained unaware of his slow pace. The world around him had forgotten that he was still moving through it. In the grand image of life, he was just another dot in the frame.

Dragging his bags behind him, he moved forward. The car that would begin his journey stood idling by the road. His long-time friend sat inside, wearing shades and flashing a smile. This friend, who had witnessed the good times, would chauffeur him today. They exchanged greetings, reestablishing their connection. He had always made friends easily, his smiling face a welcoming sight. He had met this driving companion only days after arriving, over shared vices. Now, this figure beside him was reduced to unintelligible noise as he became lost in thought. He didn't fully grasp that in just a few hours, their paths would diverge. The sun was nearing its zenith, its warmth fleeting like the time they shared. While the sun was guaranteed to return the next day, there was no such certainty for the bond between these two travelers.

Saying farewell had never been his strength. His eyes always teared up at moments of separation. His father, a disciplined man, despised such displays of emotion. "Toughen up!" he'd say during hard times. Yet now, as thoughts of his father filled his mind, he began to feel a new sense of respect. Behind the stern, militaristic exterior, he saw a concerned and caring figure. On the concrete plains where millions of goodbyes had been said before, he stood with his bags. He had parted from his friend earlier with some words and emotions. Now, like the sun descending from its midday position, he moved forward.

In a line among hundreds of unfamiliar faces, he began to think of the many people he'd left behind. Just as those ahead and behind him were different, so too were the faces of those he knew. And in their differences lay the very thing that made them all the same. He wondered about the hundreds of new people he would meet and the few whose names he would forget. He was moving again toward a place he once called home. Memories of old friends filled his mind, while those of the ones he left behind today began to fade. Like the sun moving alone across the sky, he shone brightly in hopes of being noticed—because how could anyone survive without the warmth of friendship?

The sleepless night reminded him of what he had missed. He felt exhausted as he sat in transit. Gazing out the small window, he watched clouds race past. Time had always felt rushed, never waiting for him to finish his tasks. He had hurried through relationships, rushed his work, skimmed through emotions when things were different, and, worst of all, made snap decisions when a few more minutes were needed. But today was different. He wouldn't succumb to his tired eyes or let the growing warmth within him fade.

Sometimes, a single day in a person’s life is enough to bring clarity about the things that matter most. The journey that began with the rising sun had rekindled his warmth for family and friends. He couldn't wait to see his family again. The thought filled him with happiness, though it was tinged with sadness for what he left behind. He was beginning to feel again. The prospect of the sun rising tomorrow comforted his troubled heart, and he hoped for better days ahead. The sun had grown tired of its place in the sky, and darkness was now falling over the world.

In a large room, a newly bought 42-inch curved LED television blazed with light and sound. A boy lay in front of it, eyes glued to the screen. His older sister sat on the couch next to him, staring at a smaller screen in her hands. Their parents had called earlier, saying they'd be working late again. The usual display of conflict was playing on the screen in front of the boy. His gaze wavered as a message scrolled across the bottom of the screen: a plane had crashed today, killing all the passengers aboard. The boy suddenly perked up, alert to the new image on the screen. He turned to his sister and shouted, "I'm asking Mommy to buy me that new smartphone!"

In a bottle of wine.

Tasting the sweetness in the midst of unpleasant flow,

I take in the cure to my sadness row.

Smelling nothing important from this crucial drink,

I drift into the mind of a guy on the brink.

Push me oh Lord, so that I fall

Away from this moment and from things I recall,

And into the depths of the ocean in my mind,

Where there is nothing else for me to find.

Deliver me into your bosom

And let it hit me, the winds of freedom.

Halfway to full is the potion that kills me,

Yet it calms like the shade of a tree.

Have reached where I can feel the arms of the sun,

But I shun it and away from it I run.

So help me father, you are my roots,

Even if a tree grows rotten fruit

Given time, nourishment and light looking overhead.

                 The seed from it blooms and to someone it provides gracious spread.

Be a part of me, you the big tree and I the shade from it.

For the path is already seen and the fire is lit.

The fire is burning out in the glass near,

To be left thirsty for love and care I fear.

Fuel the burning fire, mother, spreading happiness so vast,

Which since my knowing never fades, forever it lasts.

Your warm heart boils the passion in me to move on,

And figure out ways when all routes seem gone.

The taste seems to fade so I pour more,

My mind may be empty but my bottle is full, as before.

To replenish what is gone and to fill what is empty.

Sisters, be there for me, as you all were for eternity.

Tell me when I am wrong and praise me when I am right.

The rivers that run through the valley in sight,

Carving big and stubborn rocks in time.

For lemonade is refreshing only when you add sugar and lime.

Now the bottle and the glass seems to drain,

Ending fear, sorrow and the deepest pain.

But feel that I am falling with no ends,

That’s when you all come in my dear friends.

After all a firm body needs a spine,

So dear friends a toast of the very best wine.

The glass is empty, so is the bottle so fine,

My heart is not for I know a woman, she’s truly mine.

 Walking beside me on a thorny path bringing joy and a lot of smiles,

Always with me even if there are things called hundred of miles.

The ticking clock made a grape into something this divine,

So I willingly will be a thorny, twisting vine.

This part may be over as only the cork remains,

But this moment was not in vain.

For my mind is set, my heart filled and my goals clear,

 I move towards future neither with remorse nor fear.

Faith and family with me, friends beside and love all the way,

So come hardship, I’ll face you any given day.

__________________________________________________________________

Dreamy Eyes.

To wake up takes all my strength,
not to do so, would go to extreme length.
Eyes open, but are dreamy from the night,
morning has come with all its light.
Drag myself from the safety of my bed,
and on to routine I am led.
Senses grow as I walk down the line,
sights seems to be pristine.
But the light around fade,
like the light is darkness made.
Things I see now has no sense,
truth becomes light instead of dense.
So I go back to sleep to see you,
for you are truth, light, joy and escape from blue.

Feared Warmth

It is cold where i am,
sheltered but i cannot feel calm.
Outside looks warm and free,
but to go there i cannot myself be.
I shroud the rays of sun and sit here,
while others are happy to be there.
Take me out, let me feel the sun,
let me see joy and be part of the fun.
But burns and aches wait for me,
and things my eyes don't want to see.
So i brave the cold and be caged,
and here i shall forever age.
take me out, let me feel the sun,
let me feel the joy but i am not part of the fun.

In My Mind (Fiction)

With every small piece of the past scattered around, memories are buried within. My memories, like these, are buried in the moment I went on a trip with my parents—a trip that went entirely wrong. Yet, in pain and disappointment, we often find true joy and lasting impressions. This was one of those bittersweet moments that would forever linger in my mind. As I sit here remembering, the moments are becoming clearer, more vivid than the waters of the high seas. I was in the early years of my youth, just 9 years old. Life was simple then, my concerns were few, and I didn’t worry about the trivial things that now consume so much of our thoughts. I was truly happy, and perhaps that’s why I can recall those moments so vividly, even after more than 15 years have passed.

Excitement had filled my heart the night before, and I woke up the next morning even more thrilled. The reason for my joy was the news my father shared with us during dinner the previous night. We were a family of five—my father, mother, two older sisters, and me. Dinnertime was always lively, the only time we were all together. The aroma of steaming rice filled the air, and the table looked like a carefully tended garden. Dishes were placed in the center, and plates were arranged in a circle around them. My mother always took such care with these little things, and I adored her for it. My father had just returned from a long overseas trip—he had been away for almost five months—so this was our first dinner together in a long time. My sisters, 11 and 16 at the time, were as loud and boisterous as ever, pushing each other around the table like they always did, and still do. Then my father broke the news: he wouldn’t have to travel anymore, and he would be staying home with us. I was overjoyed—I loved spending time with my father, and I couldn’t wait to wake up the next day.

But the morning didn’t turn out as I expected. I saw packed bags by the door and dragged myself down the stairs, half-awake, trying to make sense of what was happening. My father was talking to my mother, and she looked upset. I overheard fragments of the conversation—words like “Why?” and “This is impossible!” and “It’s not fair...” in my mother’s voice. When they noticed me, they stopped talking and greeted me with warm smiles. My father explained that he had to leave again for something very important, but this time, he would be taking me with him. In an instant, I was wide awake. I had finally won something over my sisters—they were always the ones to get such opportunities, but this time it was my turn. That morning, I tasted victory, and I liked it.

My bags were already packed, and my mother helped me wash up and dress for the day. The usual morning routines went by, but this time, I was excited. I waved goodbye to my mother, who stood on the porch as we drove away in my father’s car. I could see her waving vigorously, and I thought she was happy for me. As we drove, our house—once the biggest in the neighborhood—seemed to shrink and fade behind other buildings. New sights emerged: the road stretched out like an endless thread, the sound of rivers gushing beneath us, and the smells of different houses we passed by. Soon, I smelled food, and I guessed it was lunchtime. We stopped at a restaurant along the way and had Indian food. The vibrant colors on the plate and the lively chatter around us fascinated me, especially the sight of a large man battling several plates of rice and curry—eventually, the man won. Afterward, I fell asleep in the car.

When I woke up, it was evening. I saw a city in the distance, lights growing brighter as night approached, and people hurrying home. Cars buzzed by, their headlights flickering in the dark. Memories blur after that, but I recall sleeping soundly beside my father. The next day, we followed the same routine, getting back into the car. We arrived at an airport, and I was awestruck by the sight of enormous airplanes. My first plane ride was terrifying! I felt like some invisible force was pressing down on me, and I was on the verge of tears, but my father held me close. I could smell the faint scent of stale cigarettes and his musky cologne, and I felt comforted. Sometimes, I wish I were a bird, looking down at how small and insignificant everything appears from the sky.

We had arrived in a new land, and I was thrilled. Hand in hand with my father, we ventured into this unfamiliar place. I saw people who looked different—blonde-haired strangers rushing past us. The sights were so new to me that I barely noticed when we reached a large building. Surrounded by towering structures, I felt small. The following weeks were filled with excitement as I explored these massive buildings and marveled at everything around me. As a 9-year-old boy, new places felt like wonders, and I was happy beyond words. Little did I know that this was the place we would call home for the next 20 years.

Looking back now, I realize the things I didn’t understand during that trip with my father. I hadn’t noticed the fight that broke out after dinner, my mind too focused on spending time with him. I didn’t see that my sisters were gone the next morning. I didn’t see the tears in my mother’s eyes as we drove away. I missed the sadness on my father’s face during lunch. I failed to feel the tears that fell on me as my father hugged me on the plane. And I didn’t understand that we had left my mother and siblings behind as we embarked on this journey. I was too young, too carefree, and too naïve to see that my parents were separating. 

Nothing was the same after that day, but I still remember it vividly. With each passing year, I see a new side to that moment, and new realizations emerge. For now, it remains a bittersweet memory—one of the last moments I spent with my father, and the last time I saw my mother. As the band Poison once sang, "Every rose has its thorn"—and they were right.

Finding Happiness.

Happiness is like a packet waiting to be opened. All the years that have passed on my way to becoming an adult have taught me one simple truth: we are truly happy only when we take the initiative and put in the effort to find it. This realization came slowly in my life. When it finally hit me, I hadn’t anticipated it at all. I realized that we often find happiness in the moments when we aren’t actively searching for it. One such experience opened my eyes to things I will never forget. Growing up in a serene country, you never seem to appreciate what you have because it’s always there in front of you. But when it’s gone, that’s when you start to miss and long for it.

I come from a family of three kids, cradled in the unconditional love of our parents and steeped in happiness. Every morning, my two sisters and I would fight over the best piece of toast at the breakfast table. Our cook wasn’t the best in the world, but he always managed to toast one piece of bread to perfection. Time has passed, and now when I’m alone at home, I always get the best piece of bread—but I no longer enjoy it as much because I miss the struggle that came with earning it. In the same way, all the time spent with friends feels timeless, and those memories are precious.

I went to college far from home—hundreds of miles away. It was during this time that my friends and I decided to take a trip to explore the new country we found ourselves in. We left behind our responsibilities and embarked on a journey in a second-hand Toyota Corolla, a journey I will always cherish. The day began with all of us hungover from a party the night before. It was a warm Sunday, and waking up drained half the energy we got from our breakfast of coffee, *pandesal* (local bread), and scrambled eggs. After a slow start, the five of us decided to go out for lunch. We piled into the car and drove to a local restaurant. The food was good, and after we’d eaten, one of my friends suggested going for a ride. We all agreed, and thus began our epic journey to nowhere in particular.

The hot tropical sun of the Philippines beat down on us like an angry beast, but we protected ourselves by rolling down the windows and letting the cool breeze in. This battle with the sun continued until it finally sank into the ocean, its orange glow a reminder that it would return for another round tomorrow. As the light dimmed, we saw new sights. I remember seeing a small child by the roadside picking up trash among stray dogs scavenging for scraps. I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me—I was lucky to be in the car and not on the street like so many less fortunate children. That feeling lasted only a moment, though, as our next stop was a bar by the roadside. The neon lights promised us a good time, and the sight of pretty girls going in and out was enough to lure us in. Beer and food flowed freely, but the same couldn’t be said for the money in our pockets. Buzzed and broke, we left the bar. In my drunken state, I suggested a night drive, and everyone agreed. But in our excitement, we forgot to refuel the car, and before we knew it, the Toyota sputtered to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

At first, we were angry, then we laughed it off, but soon, each of us was lost in our own thoughts as we lay on the ground, gazing up at the starry, moonless sky. Sometimes, alcohol has a way of bringing out clear emotions and thoughts. That was one of those nights. We talked about our failures, our concerns, our pain, and our dreams. We slept uncomfortably huddled together in the car, but that was the best sleep I had during my four years in the Philippines.

The sun, not forgetting the battle of the previous day, woke us up with a vengeance, making our sticky, sweaty bodies feel even worse. The arguments started—someone had to fetch gas for the car, and thankfully, it wasn’t me. When my friend returned with the gas, he looked even angrier than the sun. But once we were on the road again, all was forgotten. Something had changed; none of us wanted to go back. We continued along the winding roads, hoping to reach the end—or at least run out of money first. ATM machines, which had seemed like a luxury before, became a necessity. After restocking our funds, we kept going, stopping whenever we pleased. Our phones were dead since none of us had brought chargers, but it was a blessing in disguise—we were completely cut off from our responsibilities. Cigarette butts flew out the car windows, and we made frequent bathroom stops. By now, we had made peace with the sun, enjoying the warmth from the comfort of the car.

As the week wore on, the weight of our college obligations began to creep back in. On our last night, we emptied our remaining funds and splurged at a nearby beach resort that had been tempting us throughout the trip with its enticing billboards and McDonald’s ads. Amid the tourists who had come to relax, we found a place to go wild. We did nearly everything there was to do, and a few things I’m not proud of—but that’s a story for another time. Suffice it to say, we had a good night.

The real struggle began on the way back. We were almost out of money and had no choice but to drive straight home. Exhausted, we longed to stop and rest, but our empty pockets wouldn’t allow it. The comfortable car ride now felt like a prison, and the songs on the radio, which had once been fun, were so repetitive I wanted to throw the CDs out the window. We passed by the same sights we had seen before, but this time we were tired and irritable. The carefree joy of the trip had been replaced by fatigue and frustration.

We finally reached Manila the next day. The long queue of cars felt like a bottle of emotions waiting to burst. Then, in the midst of our frustration, something caught my eye. I saw a child, no more than 5 or 6 years old, standing by the road. He was thinner than the nearly empty wallets we carried, wearing nothing but a pair of torn shorts. He was stooped over, picking up a piece of discarded paper. My heart sank as I watched him carefully dust it off. The paper was a fast food wrapper, and he examined the tiny bits of food stuck to it as if they were treasures. I rolled down the window, intending to give him some money, but he didn’t even glance my way. Instead, he ran to the side of the road, where an even smaller child lay on the pavement. With bright eyes, the little girl took the paper from him and licked it clean with such delight. Tears filled my eyes. I hadn’t even noticed the honking of the driver behind us. I closed my eyes and thanked God for the life I had been given.

We reached home, four hours away from that scene in Manila. I took a shower, grabbed some food from the fridge, and collapsed into bed. As I lay there, I started thinking. I was lucky—lucky compared to many, to so many. That trip was three years ago, and now, looking back, I’m glad we went. I struggled with my college attendance afterward, but it was worth it. It was a spontaneous adventure that brought me closer to my friends. The conversations we shared have bonded us in ways nothing else could. And most importantly, that trip made me grateful. I have heat in my room, water to drink, a roof over my head, and food to eat. 

Happiness is everywhere—in the walks we take, in the clothes we wear, in the food we eat, in the friends we have, and in the life we are given. As I said, happiness is like a packet—however small or insignificant—just waiting to be opened.