Matchbox

We live in a box
Tiny bed and a cot
No kitchen and couch
Only a little bath

Squeezed between two
I call mom and dad
Space too little
Can't play longer

Easily you forget
How much you got
You say it's few
I call it a lot

Don't pity me
I like it here
Small it may be
It's home sweet home

Keep on counting your blessings, instead of what you're missing. You are abundantly blessed than millions of children around the world. This is for you our little one, our greatest gift of all.

Her Time

'Mae East'
Watercolor on Paper, 6x10 inches.

She stood in front of me

No longer to be called wee
Graceful, slender and tall
Not to be missed at all

Pigtails are gone
Shiny streaks have won
Growing too fast
Chasing dreams so vast

Stride slow my child
The world is wild
Hold my hand
While you still can

Enjoy your childhood
Be happy as I would
If only I can keep you
Until my time is through

Written for my little niece, Mae. I miss you my sweet pea. We'll soon be together again.

Is there someone you miss so much? A child growing up too fast, or a little girl now turned into a woman. This is for you, for her too.

I would love to hear your story.

I Want to Remember

The day Mom picked me up when I stumbled and fell,

When Dad cheered me up with his silly spells.

Learning to read with Big Sisters,

And creating paper dolls and pigtails better.

The thrills of receiving the first love notes,

Walking with a best friend under a shared coat.

Tears that fell and laughters too,

Down that aisle to say 'I Do'

Extra beats and flutter kicks in my tummy,

As anticipation grew towards becoming a mommy.

An infant's first cry and smile,

That made each day worthwhile.

I want to remember today,

And not keep new memories at bay.

Poetry is a gift. Just like every moment of each day is. Even without you knowing, you're creating a memory for yourself and for someone. Someday you'll hear 'Mom, Dad or My Friend, I remembered when...' and they'll thank you for it.

My special memory today - dedicating our little one to being a Christian. I would love to hear yours.

Catching Raindrops

Growing up in a sunny region, I was used to having gorgeous weather almost throughout the year. Yet my favorite season of all times are spring showers.  My love affair with the whole precipitation cycle must have started when I was five, I love watching the raindrops trickle in our window panes.

The tiny drops resemble little gems, it was one of my first discoveries.  I was so enticed by it that I picked up a pencil and paper and started drawing it.  Trying to capture the misty scene wasn't that simple, I realized.  There must be some way I could portray it.  Coloring it with my stash of crayons didn't seem to help much.  That afternoon, as I watched the rain pour, I grew weary at my attempts.

Just like any kid, I finally gave up and set it aside.  In my young mind, I thought I failed.  Then I heard both of them exclaimed 'Oh my, what a beautiful drawing, great job! '  It was the first time I've seen those kind of amazement in my parents' eyes.  They both scooped me up and raised my artwork proudly.  

That's why I love rainy days.  In my young mind then, I learned it was alright to fail, to be disappointed at myself at times and allow sadness in life.   That everything doesn't have to be perfect or right.  Cheers of triumphs taste sweeter afterwards.

The rain brought me two things that day - an important lesson in life and my love to create.

Six

Click on photo to buy this painting.

Acrylic on heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.

Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Six, 6, sixth. Read it aloud again. What comes to mind? The abominable phrase of all things evil.

I pity the number. Is it it's fault to be what it is, to represent the 'otherwise' of good? Or was it a scarlet given by a lonesome, hopeless fellow long time ago. If it only has it's own voice, will it protest the label we put on it? Will it say, 'Give me a chance'.

Chance. Today, I'm doing that. It's time to give 'it' the chance. This isn't just a word play on positive adjectives. This is 'it'. It wasn't at all difficult to ponder on the beautiful sides.

The number '6' is a symbol of fertility, of that amazing gift to produce life. I looked like that when I was pregnant. Tall, skinny with a big 'bloop' (as my husband fondly called my belly) in the middle. I find women sexiest when they're pregnant. I admire those who wish to be one and constantly pray for those who has not been blessed.

I miss those times when I can't bend or see my toes anymore. My husband has this funny picture of me attempting to cut my toenails during my last trimester. I mustered all my yoga moves that time but to no avail. The beauty of being in the 'sixth' figure - you get to be pampered with so much love. And have someone else cut your toenails.

Six. If you're in that 'sixth' stage in life where everything seems to fall out of place, disillusioned, alone, feeling ugly and labeled inconspicuously, give yourself a 'chance'.

Look in the mirror and focus on every curve in your body, mind and soul that is beautiful. Be thankful for who you are. You are an amazing creation. Believe it, live it.