Friday the 14th

FRIDAY THE 14TH.

Scary title?

Oh no, slow it down. I’m just writing a love story again.

And so please slip in your prejudices over what course this another love story will end up. And imagine that this is the first love note I have ever written.

Well, this one you would not have to imagine: This is dedicated to the last woman who would’ve to own my heart—my wife.

As such, how about re-entitling it: FEBRUARY 14th— The Day of Hearts. Good now?

To the hopeless romantic out there who, just like me, had stumbled and fallen-- lend me a chance to prove that I have stood up and made up with whatever I came short of. There were times when my balls stretched back and hid inside my anus. But those were my embarrassing days. I was really sorry. I learned huge lessons.

Therefore, friends, with due respect and out of love for my wife, let’s begin the story without reference to any of my past accounts.

Downgrade your expectations. This isn’t the kind of literary that is qualified for Pulitzer and Nobel Prizes. Nevertheless, it’s one piece of legacy that I know I can pass on to my children.

The twits.

About three years ago.

I had a heavy baggage.  She had one, too. We met at one point in time when loving again was simply not opportune. But we pushed the set-up with our individual motivation that perhaps we could cure each others’ woundedness.

Concerned friends were telling us to get out of the fast lane, pull it over and think again.  But we were enchanted by the chances of instantly mending ourselves from our past. It was a little too late when we woke up from our fantasy—a make believe fairy tale. We were old enough, how come we didn’t see that trick swinging?  

Since we forced the relationship to work out, the subsequent scenes were spiteful and messy. We were throwing curses to each other. Hurtful words were our means to start and end any conversation.

Finally after all the twits and bitter words, there was one thing we both agreed with. We needed to end the ‘us’.

The twist.

We discovered she got pregnant.

Oh well, look at how Heaven intervenes when something ought to be accomplished. We needed not an army of angels to end the war. There’s just one.

With little words, we acceded that this is a gift and responsibility we must accept and deal with together.

The twister.

We got married!

 ‘thought all’s well. But storms surged; twisters distressed our married life. Did we force it again?

I took a second job as a call center agent while working as a manager in a shipping outlet. I needed to earn big because something great had to be prepared for. For three months the longest nap I have had was 2 hours.

Until, my health took its toll on me. I was almost bedridden during the time when my wife was pregnant. Instead of me nursing her it was the other way. I was taking meds, attending therapies, travelling to different hospitals via ambulance, having lab tests and scans—without providing. The sole business that my family owned was collapsing too.

The wife that she promised to be, she unquestionably exceeded. The husband was a patient for a year.

My wife provided for her own pregnancy and for my medication.

With all those in her shoulder, she still had time and strength to take care of me, not to mention my temper which was all haywire.

The twig.

We are still under financial debts caused by my illness and our business's closure. But we are taking one step at a time.

Like a twig in a tree, we are doing it slowly now not only because doing it swiftly is dangerous. But because, there’s a lot that we need to catch up from our “hurried” days. 

We need to slow  it down,  it’s the best way that we can learn and appreciate the beauty of growth.

FEBRUARY 14th— The Day of Hearts.