Myalgia

On October 13, Ja and I went round and round brisk walking at the Park that can't be named because I don't have the authority to speak its name. As usual, Ja wanted to be 12 steps ahead of me but I just happened to wear my best shoes at that time; so, he never succeeded. I always kept pace with him during the entirety of the walk. 

What made me like that particular walk was--Ja never talked. He was thinking deeply as our feet raced one after the other on the pavement, covering as much ground faster than my mind could perceive. I felt like the walk was a meditation of sort. 

The following week, we were back again at the park that can't be named, walking. But the next day, I woke up with a growing pain somewhere in my thighs that seemed to vanish everytime I moved. It was not pamaol. I developed a fever and was thinking, this might be how a fibromyalgia felt like (because I read about it months back and had no idea what it was). Then, Doc Jean told me, try if the paracetamol will take away the myalgia. Hah! Myalgia! Another Latin word to scare Ja! I used it as soon as I had the chance to talk to him.  After the doctor's visit, another Latin word to scare Ja with. The doctor said I had sciatica. What does it mean? Asked Ja. Just look it up, I said. I'm tired.

 

Love is a many splendored thing

I just came out of the coffee shop where I cracked my head over a story that refused to write when I happened to look up at the sky and see the colours. I never knew that it rained. I never knew that I already spent three hours on a story that refused to work. And when I looked up again, I caught a message on my phone, saying, Ma, I'm here, where are you?! 

It simply made my day.

 

Claveria Street when underground cabling was still in progress

This was what the Claveria Street (above and right), the Crooked Road (below, right) and that street that leads straight to City Hall (below) looked like on June 23, 2021.  They're already clean and orderly now.   

Late post for All Saints' Day

This afternoon, after mass, I happened to pass by the Anda building where the old Radyo ni Juan used to be and resisted the urge to go up, just like old times and see Dodong Solis there. We did not finish our last chat in June last year and before I knew it, he was already gone in October. Can you imagine the feeling? We promised to at least chat because he was about to tell me something but I did not make it, I had lots of stories to follow up that day and then days, weeks passed by and before you knew it, it was over! You could no longer turn back the clock, so they say!

Also last year, exactly on November 1, Orlando "Dondon" Dinoy, our ex-correspondent, became the Inquirer's banner headline. He was shot right inside his apartment by a gunman. I still refused to believe it when the picture circulated on the internet.  He was the type who really loved it when his story would land on the Inquirer's page.  In fact, we was among the very few who braved going out to visit hospitals even during the height of the Covid lockdown, no matter how you order him to stay put and just follow up his stories on the phone. He survived Covid but not the assassin's bullet.  There are so many dead now, friends who have gone away for good. Offering for them.

Of course, I miss my Pa and feel so bad that I could not physically go to visit his grave. I have to find a way. 

The Good Herb

 

In the last three days, my boy has agreed to take the Oregano tea to ease the soreness of his throat.