Art on my table

 Growing up, I was fascinated how effortlessly she put her art together.  I called it art not as a painting or sculpture but her skill made it as such. She stitched her yarn with grace and facility that left me in awe. Seeing her work spread on the table like a trophy when I went to her home, not asking how she did it, I praised the intricate design she was making.

 I was and still is a silent fan. Then this week, I received a gift from her. One would think I overreacted but I cried. She didn’t know how from afar I wished to be as good as her, maybe she was the reason why I learned knitting. It was an easier path for me.

The desire to learn is still inside me. I imagine my table adorn with this immaculate and delicately stitched white cloth but there's a thousand things to do this year. So for now, I have this gift. Moving from my sofa to our dining table every day, a reminder of my Aunt’s artistry and a precious gift to cherish.

Peppa and Monday - A start of a new day

 The girls and I walked to school this morning. We kissed good bye several times at a certain spot, a way of practicing to let them go on their own. My youngest was okay with it, the Ate, not yet.
So there we were stopping after the mini fountain, after my favorite cherry tree which was vandalized by someone and was brought to life by efficient gardeners, after the bench, where senior citizens, mothers with strollers and even myself,  sat on when  tired of walking or just merely  quietly contemplate the trees and the life that surrounds us.
We waved goodbye and I watched them walked together to school. The birds were chirping joyously, seemed glad that the trees are coming back to life and that the crocuses of yellow and lavender shades are all over the place.
I headed home ready for my sugarfix but Peppa was there,smirking and so I opted to do the laundry instead. Happy Monday!

Volley love

the game,Saturday morning

Volleyball fever has rubbed off onto my friends and relatives. Most of them were religiously practicing twice a week,seemed to be enjoying and made this sport a part of their lives for a year now.

Hence for their 2nd season which the FSA has organized, they are vying for the 
Ambassador’s Cup. This is one special occasion where in Pinoys of Geneva come together and watch their favorite team for two days.

Something that is definitely not to miss. I have promised my girls that we'd watched their Titas (my friends and relatives) play the game. These Titas got me all excited to watch them play against each other, all for the love of volleyball.

 

The Game

So while my girls found their little friends, I sat in the middle  to have a better view of the court which was divided into three. The surrounding was vibrating with excitement and just being there somehow transported me back to my home country. There were food stands,offering Pinoy foods, of course, and a court full of my fellow Filipinos.

Everyone was in a high spirit. Cheers and applause echoed  the area. I wasn't cheering for a particular team but was overjoyed when each one of them scored and got disappointed when the ball was blocked.

Now back to my friends, some of them have played during their high school years.Others have no experience in playing volleyball at all. But there they were on the court looking confident and excited.  Once  the ball was hit  and the game started, they became engrossed with something more serious amidst the dynamic crowd.

A friend  stated that she would become aggressive and genuinely concentrated on the ball. One said that she was tense,but as Gani, a friend from Vivens men's team put it, there was a bit of pressure as well as eagerness to win but the most important thing is to have fun.

And I agreed to that. It was what this tournament was all about. 
Till next season,my friends.

A Memoir of an Ex CLEANING LADY

by Elle First Love
The whole story won't be complete if he's not in it. He was my first love ever. The one who managed to tame my heart...my own Ampalayo.Up to now, I still get this giddiness whenever I think of him.
We were classmates during college and it was not until our second year that he courted me. We were together all summer and so it was inevitable not to fall in love with him after that.
Working right after college gave me independence but he was always there. He accepted my ever-changing moods. He stayed in our village and worked as a high school teacher. That's why every sat evening we would sit at the village's square, gawk at the passers-by, eat, talk or merely enjoy each other's company.
We were in our usual place that night, sitting in a banc right next to a lamp post. We were sharing a coke and a bbq, enjoying the evening breeze when I told him about my plan. He was okay with it, I promised him that I'd be back after two years. Yes, we made plans. It felt good having something to look forward to while away from someone.
That night, he lovingly held my hands and looked into my eyes. I could see the sadness in there but I assured him that everything would be alright.
I was hunted by that night and that look. That even years later, in my sitting room, when he asked: "Why did you forget me?" while his pregnant wife sat within earshot, I was lost for words...wanted to cry and hug him, to stay forever in his arms, to live in a farm, have beautiful kids, own dogs or horses--which ever, you know just like our plan...but it was 5 years late.

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