i still dream about you, ma, from time to time…

in my dreams, i see you…

wearing one of your long house dresses or daster as we call it; cooking by the stove in the kitchen; laughing and chatting with lola azon and the maid while we lie on the marble floor watching a young ariel ureta on early morning tv…

in my dreams, i see you…

and the rest of us…complete; sitting around the old dining table; having a noontime discussion about politics, school, religion; the lazy susan spinning with your tinolang manok and steamed bangus slowly disappearing from their serving plates and into our bellies …while you refill your saucer with calamansi juice and more of that sinful bagoong…

in my dreams, i see you…

watching the carol burnett show late at night when everyone else was asleep; laughing your heart out to the point of tears at carol, harvey korman and tim conway’s antics; while peeling the largest santol that i’ve ever seen…which you kept from us…apparently to enjoy it alone since you deserve a reward after a long, long week of working and commuting from home to philcoa …back and forth, back and forth…you saw me catching you, and you smile and i smile; and then you offer me some; i accept, reveling in this special moment which was our little secret…

and in my dreams, i still see you…

happy, beautiful, and alive; grayer yet healthy and strong; and that you never left us; you whip up a batch of your macaroon cupcakes setting them on the old dining table in its new room filled with framed photos of your smiling grandchildren…you take off your glasses to wipe the lens with the hem of your daster, while you sit down, facing me to ask how my work is doing; and if i have already eaten; and if i needed anything; and if i’m happy, too…of course, i’m happy, ma, i would reply as i bite into one of your soft cupcakes…

but i’m at my happiest when i get to see you in my dreams…for in my dreams, you’re still here.

i love you, and happy birthday…

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