It is the day before Valentine's. Rain is pouring hard. Morgan sits on the sofa. Cold air wafts through our terrace. He holds his 5 colored markers. I sit in front of him. It is time for our massage. I massage the back of his big toes and thumbs. My big boy looks at me and smiles, leaning his head this way and that as he does when he is happy. "Mmmmm....wowowow," he murmurs. Ten Green Bottles fill our house as Garret sits in his corner . He smiles and occasionally stands up to march to the beat. "Haaaaa-peeee," he tells nobody in particular, in a voice that is no longer a child's.
It is the day before Valentine's. My social media news feed is filled with photos and posts on the awaited love day. My nieces tell me there's going to be a marriage booth, handcuff stalls where students pair up possible love birds at school tomorrow. Chocolates and flowers will be sold. Songs will be sung in serenade. Love letters will be cheesily written or sent in various messenger inboxes.
It is the day before Valentine's. Morgan is 10. Garret will soon turn 13. I ask myself why it still creates a pang in my heart that my boys won't get to experience the festivities of love day, marriage booths, handcuff booths, buying chocolates and flowers for somebody they might like, serenade their first love, write the letter that would sweep another girl's heart.
On one hand I comfort myself in the knowledge that perhaps nobody gets to break their heart. On the other hand, the chance of finding that one true person who sets their souls on fire is something they will not experience.
It is the day before Valentine's. I want very badly for them to experience the adventure of finding the love of their lives, the rapture and the loss that is necessary to love another being fully. The being able to heal and recover from heartbreak and the coming out of it a better or just a different person.
It is the day before Valentine's. I do not know where I am going with this. The same way I do not know for certain what awaits my boys in the future. What I know is this nagging from the inside every time I look at other tweens or teenagers having the time of their lives.
It is the day before Valentine's. I dare not sugarcoat this thing called acceptance of the higher plan. It is real. It is hard. It is roses overfilled with thorns. It is tumultuous. It is bittersweet. Yes, like dark chocolate. It is beautiful and terrible, fragrant petals on palms with pricked fingers. It becomes beautiful again amidst all these questions.
It is the day before Valentine's. I am human, very much so and I am still very much confounded by how the Universe is manifesting her plan.
It is the day before Valentine's. Rain
is pouring hard. Morgan sits on the sofa. Cold air wafts through our
terrace. He holds his 5 colored markers. He smiles as I massage him and talk to him. "Mmmmmm....wowowowow," he says. His head leans to gaze at me from another angle. He shows me his toothy grin. Garret smiles
and occasionally stands up to march to the beat of his music "Haaaaa-peeee," he
tells nobody in particular, in a voice that is no longer a child's.
It is the day before Valentine's day. My big boy smiles. My soon to be teenager says he is happy. So there's that.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Photo taken March 2014. Ormoc City Pier.
