6AM
the pulp bits dance and swirl in a whirlpool as you stir the cold calamansi juice and allow the chemically-processed powdery sugar to evolve from solid to liquid in a span of 10 stirrings or so. you inspect your juice thoughtfully, wary of any floating ant that might have trespassed your sugar pot, and once satisfied that it is invader-free, you down it in one gulp and lick your lips sideways to relish the remaining aftertaste.
a half-boiled, half-peeled egg with a teaspoon shoveled in sits on its holder and stares back at you, the salt shaker within reach. you peek at its white igloo-like casing and watch as the almost-visible aroma of the egg yolk floats. you push it aside. you opt for your version of a french toast: hot pandesal soaked in condensed milk with grated cheese toppings. you complete what constitutes your breakfast with a sip of your not-so-favorite brew, the latest 3-in-1 instant coffee which does not taste like coffee at all.
you decide against an unusual morning fare today – left-over rice from last night's dinner stir-fried, seasoned with soy sauce and slices of garlic sautéed to their brownest, and tender pieces of beef tapa cut to perfect bite-sizes accompanied by its perennial partner, the ubiquitous concoction of vinegar-cum-red-pepper-and-garlic. the protrusion of fat in your belly keeps you in check. you help yourself to a small serving of custard apple wrapped in a yellow serviette instead.
and then you hear the familiar shriek of jose miguel. he is your grandson and he is nine months old now.
jose miguel feeds you with smiles so heavenly you can’t exchange it with the best bite-size tapa. he intoxicates you with the peal of his laughter that is at once so comforting and so exhilarating you want him to holler more. he makes you forget that you should be rushing out of the house because in a few minutes’ time, you will be caught in a maze of massive traffic that will deal a great dent to your jam-packed schedules for the day. and the way he kicks and moans and reaches towards you as you say goodbye makes you want to stay.
you think yourself evil as you turn to leave and turn a deaf ear on his cries.
a half-boiled, half-peeled egg with a teaspoon shoveled in sits on its holder and stares back at you, the salt shaker within reach. you peek at its white igloo-like casing and watch as the almost-visible aroma of the egg yolk floats. you push it aside. you opt for your version of a french toast: hot pandesal soaked in condensed milk with grated cheese toppings. you complete what constitutes your breakfast with a sip of your not-so-favorite brew, the latest 3-in-1 instant coffee which does not taste like coffee at all.
you decide against an unusual morning fare today – left-over rice from last night's dinner stir-fried, seasoned with soy sauce and slices of garlic sautéed to their brownest, and tender pieces of beef tapa cut to perfect bite-sizes accompanied by its perennial partner, the ubiquitous concoction of vinegar-cum-red-pepper-and-garlic. the protrusion of fat in your belly keeps you in check. you help yourself to a small serving of custard apple wrapped in a yellow serviette instead.
and then you hear the familiar shriek of jose miguel. he is your grandson and he is nine months old now.
jose miguel feeds you with smiles so heavenly you can’t exchange it with the best bite-size tapa. he intoxicates you with the peal of his laughter that is at once so comforting and so exhilarating you want him to holler more. he makes you forget that you should be rushing out of the house because in a few minutes’ time, you will be caught in a maze of massive traffic that will deal a great dent to your jam-packed schedules for the day. and the way he kicks and moans and reaches towards you as you say goodbye makes you want to stay.
you think yourself evil as you turn to leave and turn a deaf ear on his cries.
posted by joeylgarcia at 3:35 AM
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