Flick was a odd and iconoclastic dog, but he was my dog. He was one of my best friends and someone I loved deeply. That’s why it hurt so much when he died.
By THOMAS G.M. SHARPE
“I talk to him when I’m lonesome like, and I’m sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose against my tailored clothes, but I never say naught threat. For the good Lord knows I can buy new clothes, but never a friend like that.” –W. Dayton Wedgefarth Continue reading “My friend, Flick”
“I saw my dad but this time, there were no hugs and kisses from him anymore. I only felt hurt and pain.”
By MICAH JESICA INDIOLA
I used to hear so many stories about people who have lost their parents. I even have a best friend whose mom passed away a few years ago. I know their stories but I never completely understood their pain – until it happened to me. Continue reading “A daughter’s farewell”
“I never had to reprimand any of the kids who visited the Farm, but I did have to confront Brother Bear. He had a tendency to take pens, paint, tools, and a host of other stuff that he felt he needed.”
By THOMAS G.M SHARPE
I have always had kids in my house. Aside from my own three children there have been nearly thirty kids who have either traveled through our house or, for various reasons, have lived here for awhile. They are all very bright and very creative. Continue reading “The thief”
“I was boxed in that image, that stereotype the society has on us. Perhaps, I was basically stereotyping people not of my culture too.”
By HANI ABBAS
Today, I was asked. “Aren’t you bothered of how people treat you because you are a Muslim (in a non-Muslim society)? People keep on asking you questions.” Continue reading “Questioning a Muslim”
“There were nights when the moon didn’t peek on the clouds and so the fireflies were in profusion. They would transform trees into dazzling display of cosmic lights as if Christmas decided to come early in our vast corner of the earth.”
By RYAN L. FAURA
It got hit by the whirled, propeller blade of the electric fan in my room. First, pinpricks of blinking lights, then, caught by the wind that sneaked its way on the hinges of the window, it fell down, like shooting stars do sometimes- fast and quick- it hissed, and the lights, greenish, went out, blinking lights no more. Continue reading “The meditations on a firefly”
“Had I known that would end up being the last time I would step foot on Number One, I would have stopped for a moment to breathe in the salty ocean breeze mingling with imported cigar ash.”
By THOMAS LEONARD SHAW
When I was seven, my father and I would take our first visit to one of our farmlands in a corner of Siargao. Nestled in the crooks of marshes and the opening between land and sea, it overlooked the vast blue and green hues that dotted the nearby landscape. Affectionately named Number One, it was the first piece of land my father bought in the Philippines. Continue reading “Of fishing villages and imported cigars”
“I remember it clearly. I will always regret the silence of that night — the things I failed to do and the words I did not utter.”
By CAMILLE GOPICO
Memories are the days gone, the clips of yesterday, and the times left behind. They warm me up inside and at the same time tearing every bit of me that is left behind. People say it gets better as time pass by, but I learned that it never did and it never will. Continue reading “Losing you”
“And now as I get older, towards the chapter of life where one stands on her own two feet, where her fists are clenched, to fight, to be brave.”
By CLARIELE JERRINA GATDULA
I tend to forget a lot of things, and tend to remember merely fragments if reminded. But, when it comes to that one tall glass of water with cartoon drawings of old men and women dancing, as told by their swaying, and the staffs, g clefs and the notes surrounding them. But, when it comes to that one tall water glass with the words “Groovy Oldies” inscribed on its flawless transparency, my memory will not fail me. Continue reading “That one tall water glass we nicknamed “Groovy Oldies””
