i send my SOS to the world- this is my message in a bottle. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hands and Hearts
I dial the familiar numbers and hear the voice flood the line, and my voice remains even, light, jovial, while tears track down my face. We talk about my life up here, school, family, friends, cooking and all the while, I choke back sobs, my heart aching, hurting and full and joyful. He tells me he loves me. My grandfather talks to me in labored breaths, returning home from his second hospital visit in a week. He wants me to study hard, he expresses joy at hearing my voice. My grandmother tells me stories of my cousins, how everyone is doing, how my cousin is going to have a baby. She gives me recipes and tells me about the new oncologist she has. She says the medicine is making her feel better- stronger even, so that maybe she can take care of my children too one day. Sometimes this is the one thing that makes me want to have children sooner than later- the joy that would cross her face in seeing my baby, cradling it's head in her wrinkled, weathered hands. Hands that bathed me as a child, hands that held mine on long walks through National City, hands that churned big pots of Ube to my wide, hungry seven year old eyes. Hands that are now riddled with arthritis and yet hold the history of my life and my heart. Sometimes, it's hard not to cry. 2:35 p.m. - Sunday, Apr. 10, 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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