The Meeting

And so it was, as it was always meant to be...they finally met.
He didn't expect her to be quite as short in stature, and she didn't expect him to be quite as tall...yet somehow they were perfect for each other.  
Oh, but the relationship was way past physical attributes...it was past sounds, time, heartbreak, and yes even past regrets.  Each had their own regrets, but somehow regrets seemed trivial.  It was about now, it was about them, it was about love...and they were in love.  A dream played out to the brightest ending transcending into an even brighter beginning...a prayer answered, a gift, almost undeserving.
Now the couple who only knew one another at a distance embraced, pulled slightly apart, then their lips met for the first of many times to come in their life.    
 With that he spoke up, "Where do we start?"
"How about a cup of coffee and a table for two," she said.  "We'll see where it leads."  "I know a  place near here...the locals call it PIP."  "Point the way my little compass", he said, I'm right with you."  "Did you just call me a little compass...maybe I don't like that!", she said.   I'll explain it all later over a cup", he replied.
Maybe that's how it all started with a conversation about coffee.  He couldn't remember.  He only knew he called her Sam the first time they spoke online, and the name stuck.  "Mind if I put a CD in while you drive?  It's something I've wanted to share with you for a while," he said.  "I was twenty four that year, and you were still waiting to make your arrival."
"Sam, how do you say 'you're my North star' in Tagalog?"  Sam shifted the Rabbit into second gear and turned the corner onto Pinole Valley Road.  "Yes, my moral compass you are" he said quietly under the sound of Billy's vocals and the Rabbit's engine.  
His right hand found it's way to the necklace that he wore beneath his shirt, the one with the cross on it.  "Mother Mary give me courage and wisdom...maraming salamat sa inyo."

Walk

I cannot wish away what has occurred in Japan.  But I can make a difference, and so can you.
If you look around the world, we really are a small community.  Even though we are separated by languages, oceans, and ideologies...we are still our brother and sister's keeper.  Isn't it true that we can make a difference?  Won't you join me and let's do our part?  Thank you.   

Come Walk With Me

Come walk with me and breathe the air 
where life is good and kind and fair 
where children laugh and play their games 
and gay and straight aren’t hateful names 

Where a child can safely walk home from school 
and neighbors heed the golden rule 
where every person does their part 
and love flows freely from the heart 

No need for money in this place 
we’re all part of the human race 
when there’s a need we’ll all be there 
to lend a hand and give our share 

A dream perhaps, well maybe so 
but if you don’t try you’ll never know 
how truly beautiful life can be ... 
so come and take a walk with me 

Lonely Bed

A goose down pillow

 beneath my head

as I float upon 
a feather bed

A patchwork quilt 
my bed adorns

to ward off chill 
and keep me warm

The doors all locked 
and pillows fluffed

The curtains drawn 
and candles snuffed

I float away 
to dream in rhyme

and seek for you 
in distant times

This empty space 
within my bed

where you once lay 
your loving head

A place where we 
as lovers met

to speak in verse 
as we caressed

My arms reach out 
within the night

to pull you close 
and hold you tight

But nothing’s there 
just senseless space

where once was you...
 perfume and lace

Release me Hypnos
 light the fire

Let me awaken 
to loves desire

then soon I’ll hold you 
in the glow

and we'll make love
like long ago

Green Papaya Salad - Aridoi Restaurant, Okinawa Japan

My favorite salad, namesake of my blog.  Found at a wonderful restaurant in Okinawa, Japan.  Dad cooks, Mom waits tables.  I eat.  Life is good.

The Rabbit Moon

A long time ago

and so far, far away

lived a beautiful girl

in a town by the bay.

Eyes shaped like almonds

and skin tan and brown.

Her hair black as midnight,

and a face oh so round.

It was Sadako's duty

to gather the honey

to sell at the market

and help the family with money.

So early each morning

to the bee hives she went.

Such a sweet little girl,

such a gift heaven sent.

And each night after chores

she would dream and then sigh,

and stare at the moon

with the rabbit up high.

She dreamed she took flight

with the bees from the hive,

and flew up to the moon

even though she was five!

Well she took to the heavens

with the help of the bees,

and visited the rabbit

who was munching on cheese.

"What a beautiful world

to see with my eyes!

I'll just take a quick nap

and then home I will fly!"

She dreamed of rabbits and pinwheels

and cupcakes and poems.

Then the rabbit awoke her and said,

"You can never go home."

But Sadako pleaded.

She felt all alone.

She missed her dear family.

So she flew away home!

So off she did fly

and arrived at her home.

But something was different,

her home was now gone!

A stranger passed by

whom she asked with great fear,

"Where is my family?

Why aren't they here?"

"Who are you? What's your name",

the stranger then asked.

"I'm Sadako Sasaki!"

Then the stranger did gasp!

"Sadako Sasaki,

the legend has been told

left home at age five,

over three centuries ago!"

Sadako wept

because the rabbit was right.

You can never go home

if you fly away in the night.

So when you gaze at the moon

or dream of the stars,

remember home is where the heart is...

it's not all that far.

Senora Saturday

A short story of family, tradition, pain, and finding the courage to love.

My name is Bart, well actually Rogelio Bartolome. San Francisco, California has been my home for most of my fifty nine years. My parents, God bless them, brought me here from Spain when I was two years old. My Papa was a baker, a wonderful baker. My Mother...she was an ángel.
Papa worked hard in the bakery business. Sixteen hour days, coming home covered in flour, smelling of warm bread from the ovens. That’s how I remember him. His smell...I could smell him before he walked in through the door of our tiny apartment. These are the memories I have of him over half a century later. His hard work and love for his craft helped us achieve the American dream. With his savings he bought his own bakery. Mama christened the bakery Dulce Día, and it was indeed a sweet day. A very successful bakery with a loyal Spanish customer base located in Berkeley. All the older Spanish señoras come by still. They show up every Saturday morning to be first in line to purchase the loaves of Pan de Horno as it comes out of the brick oven. No one made real Spanish bread better than Papa did, not even me. It’s my bakery now and its success continues with the work ethic I learned from him. Hard work, love for your fellow man, honest work. It all bought my beautiful home, nice cars, college education for the kids, my precious gold Rolex that Maria gave me for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. But I would trade it all away for just one more day with her. She’s been gone now for almost six years. I still wear a pink ribbon on my lapel and there’s one in the window of the bakery. It reminds me of her and brings me comfort. I miss her so. That’s why I’m ending it all. I have already decided. I’ll not live to see my sixtieth birthday. At approximately 4:27 pm on July 31, I will end my life.
How fitting my death will be. Rogelio ‘Bart’ Bartolome stepping in front of the Bay Area Rapid Transit 'BART' as it leaves Ashby station. Oh yes, I know the schedule. It’s on the internet. You can look it up yourself. The Richmond line leaves the station at approximately 4:12 pm, picks up passengers at Ashby station and departs at 4:27 pm. That’s when I’ll step in front of the speeding train, my ticket to heaven. I’m counting on a quick and not too painful death. It really doesn’t matter; the pain of life is greater. My only regret will be leaving my two children behind without their Papa. I do hope they will understand. They both will receive a very substantial inheritance and of course the bakery, which they will undoubtedly sell. Family first as I put away the thoughts of suicide for only a moment. The señoras will be angry I suppose. No more lovely Spanish bread, at least not from the Dulce Día.
The week passed by with the occasional thought of what Friday would bring, but it wasn’t a constant thought. I was resolute in my determination to do what I had to do. I still found pleasure in my work, and of course the daily telephone calls I would receive from my children. That was my pleasure in life, the kids. Little did either one of them know that by the end of the week they would both be without their Papa. I knew they would both grieve deeply.
My daughter, Valentina will be especially hurt. She was my little girl. She looks so much like her Mother. The dark wavy hair, the olive complexion, and that bright smile; it was what first attracted me to Maria. And her personality was Maria's to a fine point. My daughter, I miss her so much since she married and moved to Connecticut with her husband Mike. Another reason to be depressed I thought.
Friday arrives, and I am eager for it to end. Standing in the passenger queue of the Ashby station I look at my cell phone to check the time. The cell phone is my watch as I don't want my Rolex destroyed when the train rolls over my body. As I glance at the time I see it's 4:25 pm, a couple more minutes and I’ll be dead. As I start to put my cell into my pocket I notice an alert flashing on the screen...”You have one unread message”. OK, I thought as I dialed my voice mail. I’ve got a couple of minutes. One last message, and I laughed as it would definitely be the last. The message then began. “Hola Papa, it's Valentina. You’ll never guess what I have to tell you...I’m pregnant! Mike and I have known for three months, but we wanted to be sure I would make it through the first trimester before we told you. Papa, it’s a girl too…we want to have your blessing and name her after Mother; Maria Ysabel. Papa, I love you. Please call me when you get this message. Bye.”

That night I got down on my knees to talk to God, and I humbly apologized to him for being so selfish...so weak. I reminded myself that I’m a much stronger man than that...my Papa raised me to be stronger. Now I will be a Grandfather to Maria Ysabel and teach her about hard work, love for your fellow man, honesty, but above all that, I'll teach her about her beautiful Abuela Maria. Yes, Maria would like that.

I should sleep now I thought...tomorrow is Saturday and the señoras will be hungry.

Seasons of Love

For Nan...

Would you hold me now and comfort me

before the leaves fall from the maple tree

In the quietness of a moonlit glow

would you draw me close and not let go

Can you take me back to Summer's past

when our hearts were young and love was fast

Our pockets empty but life was grand

as we made a family hand in hand

So hold me now in our Autumn years

and warm my soul as Winter nears

I always knew our love would last

beyond our youthful seasons past