not one sparrow falls to the ground without him knowing it

Last night I finished reading Marley and Me and cried a sufficient number of tears thereafter.
This morning, my bird whom I had for ten years died, his precious life having been extinguished during the night. As I have said before when his brother died, God knows when every sparrow falls, and from now on whenever a small bird falls from his perch, hvaing breathed his last, i will remember that verse. Not that I really read the Bible. My bird's final curtain was not led by musical accompaniment, but oh did he have a beautiful voice! On the lid of his coffin (a 'hallmark' box with tissue inside) I wrote, dear bird, be at peace in a better place with your Creator. Your feathers have never been so radiant. You are in a better place where you will always be free. From all who loved you.

We buried him to rest at the foot of a tree, which blossoms in early spring. In the great circle of life so will this bird's dust become sustenance for the tree beneath which he is laid, and the roots of this magnum opus will entwine with his mortal body. Thus his earthly ashes will once again become one with the ground from which God created him.

Be at peace and may God's grace be with you, sparrow that fell this morning.
xx

a holiday until further notice

i did not bother to straighten my hair today before i went to work. work seems a little less familiar now because i'm taking a break so that i can live my life within my maturity level. i ahve thought about being a freelance journalist but what would i write about? and better yet, who would take me seriously?

once upon a time when a girl was broken up with by her boyfriend she moved her mattress to various rooms in her house, determined for a change of scenery. she spent each night trying to sleep, but not without fear of dreaming of him and regretting, and then waking up with her pillows soaked by tears. she refused to leave the comfort of her mattress for weeks and weeks, convinced that her sorrow would endure and that she would never be able to love again. but then one day she threw off her covers, dragged the mattress out of front door and down to the seashore. here, she let the mattress adrift upon the waves, watching as it floated further out to sea.
i wash away the hurt
with the tide there goes my vice
my self-inflicted pain will no longer hold me prisoner
calamity is no longer that mattress
it's a way of healing.

the fifth week

someday, when i am in love we will stay awake all night, drinking tea in the kitchen.
someday, when i am in love we will foxtrot for the moon.
someday, i'll know that i can love again!
i may have given away too much the first time but no, it is not the end, nor too late. i do not love him anymore, because i need to learn to love again. if ever i do love again it will be a new start, like rain on my skin. my heart will be like water and not like stone.

just for now, in the days where loneliness may be the only principle, i will learn to live. i will travel the world, take up salsa dancing again, carry on with my knitting, have my stuff back and listen to music besides the usual sad and depressing songs that make me think of him.

fifth week: it's rain on my wedding day.