Dear Wal-Mart Friend

Photo Credit:  Businessweek

Dear Friend,

Who’d have thought our friendship will start from Wal-Mart.  Of all places, right?  Life is like that, full of surprises.  Last week, you surprised me when you recounted when we first met.  Silly old me, I would have missed that detail in the years to come if not for you.  Keep on Reading.

Letter to Dad

Dearest Papa (Dad),

I don't want to end this day without letting you know how much I miss you.  Today, I got to reminisce our special times together.  Tagging me along with you to go to Dad-and-Son events when I was little (because you had all girls).  Making us feel how proud you are of 'your girls'.  Someone asked me today what's the first thing that comes to mind when I think about you.

This one does.  The weekend we built my little sister's dresser when I was seven, my first lesson in carpentry.  You taught me the value of creating something with my little hands and how fulfilling it is to give.  My sister was just born for few weeks that time and you simply said 'She'll be happy to know you helped built it'. I didn't understood before how she can appreciate it since she was so small.  But in time I understood what you meant.

Thank you for staying those late nights to help me figure out math.  I never thought that I can win over my weakness in numbers.  With your patience, I became a math wizard in fifth grade.  You showed me that perseverance has its rewards and it was a lesson I carried all throughout up to now.   But really, it was your patience and the countless hours you devoted for me that got me through those challenges.

You never missed an important event in my life, however busy you were at work.  You were a quiet man who said less but showed more with your deeds.  You were there to cheer and witness my accomplishments and made me see beyond the hurts and failures.  That I had a choice, either give up or stand up.  Sulk deep in sadness  or pick up the lessons learned.  Time and again, it was proven that choosing the latter was better.  And that crying doesn't mean one was weak.

Like the time I had my first heartbreak and went home sobbing.  You and Ma sat there with me and you said 'Cry all you want tonight, but tomorrow starts a new beginning'.  It was easier said than done but I did it with both your encouragement and support. When everything else failed, you reminded us to pray harder and that there are no limits to trying again.

I loved that the people at your work knew all our names.  It showed that you talked about us fondly.  I miss talking about politics, love, life and trivial things with you in our orchids' garden.  My husband brings me orchids every spring to remind me of you.  You would have loved him too.  You both enjoy gardening and plants.  I talk about you to my sons, your grandsons.  I tell them stories of the vegetable gardens you set up for us so we can grow things and our trips to the rivers.

I will not forget the pride in your eyes when we walked arms together towards the stage on my college graduation and watching mom put the medal around my neck.  And how excited you were to hear I got my first job.

I didn't know it was that Monday I will see you last.  That in two days, God will take back the father he blessed us.  We were both looking forward to our date that weekend, I was going to treat you and mom from my first ever paycheck.  Instead, we all had to dress for your funeral.

I wish I can share with you the life I have now or recount the years you missed.  Like the time I walked down the aisle, promotions I got, attend my art shows (yes, I'm an artist now because of you) or the births of our boys.  Share special moments with your grandkids and get to know the loving husband and father God blessed me and my children.

We never got the chance to bid each other goodbye.  But perhaps we didn't have to.  Because just like you said 'We'll always be in each other's hearts'.

Dad, Mom, Me and Sisters (below). Circa 1978.

Pa, Happy Father's Day.  I love you with all my heart.

The Spectators

Have you ever walked inside a gallery or museum and find yourself a little confused on how to define one's art?  

I knew a lot of folks like that.  I count myself among them on certain occasions.  Only I'm the type who will spend a little more time to put myself in the artist's shoes and tries to envision his thoughts behind his artwork.  

He accomplished it to serve a purpose.  Whether someone like it or not, it's there for certain reasons.  One, the curator definitely preferred his piece.  Two, he planned it to come out that way.  Three, he obviously succeeded in conveying his message because he got my attention, our attentions.  

After few minutes of thought-processing, we aim to find out who the creator is.  We then shift our gaze to the bottom right to locate the artist's signature.  Unless he's like me who signs paintings in no particular location, chances are we'll find his at that  spot.   

We conclude our brief stay by describing the kind of artist we think he is.  Knowingly, we judged the person according to his art.  Without his presence and own introduction, he has been delimited.  And just like him, we will be depicted based on our outputs.

I am an artist.  Sometimes defined as an abstract maker, at times a realist.  Oftentimes, an impressionist.  Truth is, I'm a creation of someone I call the 'Master' of all, creating to bring him glory.  

That definition suits me just fine. I hope in the end, they'll say 'The maker is great, because he had such a fine handiwork.'

How would you want to be defined?

Finding Home

'Our Patio'
Watercolor on Paper, 5 x 7 inches. Plein air.

Days like this come to me every once in a while. That nagging feeling of wanting to reconnect back to my roots. When that voice constantly resonates in my head, saying I need to be home. I was up at two in the morning trying to hush the wanderings in my head.

'This is now my home, my family is here', I recited silently. They're both sound asleep, my little one and his daddy. I tiptoed out of the room, careful not to make any noise. The wind was picking up and the trees outside the windows cast graceful shadows inside the house.

The shadows resemble my longing to be home, I can try to ignore it but I know it's there. Perhaps it's just another episode of homesickness. 'Home is where the heart is', they say. Why these longings then? I resolved not to find my answer that morning, I needed sleep.

I fixed myself a cup of tea and walked back in the room. The strong winds outside subsided, everything was calm. Someday, I'll be back again. In that place where I grew up, where the sun always shine, the trees are always green and the winds aren't that strong.

For now, I'm with them. My heart is here. This is now my 'home'. Yes, it's not the one I knew. But it's one I can call my 'own'.

Take Five

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.

The grandeur of five's.

Fifth day.

Five paintings.

Five months with my little man.

Five toes and fingers on both sides.

Fifth sibling I lost.

I'll take all five on any given day. Go ahead, celebrate your own five's.

The Fourth

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.

Life turns like a wheel, my mom would often say. Sometimes you're on top, other times you're down. Either ways, she say, you win. You learn humility when you're at the bottom and cheer more when you're up. What's important is to enjoy the 'distances in between'.

While painting this piece, I contemplated on those times in my life when I ended up fourth. This is the fourth painting anyways, so let me talk about being 'fourth'.

I was an achiever early on. My parents mentored me well when I was going to school. My first taste of victory as a child was when I graduated first honor in pre-school. That was the start. It will be followed by handfuls of academic achievements over the years until I finished college as a cum laude.

Not always the first. Some years I'll end up third, fourth or just in the middle. I stumbled countless times in my attempts to be the best. I learned to get up and move on. That's the beauty of being in the 'fourth'. You're still not there, but you know you're close.

Knowing there's a chance you'll even fail teaches you to remain humble. But there's still a reason to celebrate. If you turn your back, you'll realize you progressed from being the fifth, sixth, and so on. You're still a winner.

Fourth - that beautiful 'distance in between'. Just like this piece, my pledge won't be complete without it.

Mom was right all along.

Thirds and Threes

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.

Third painting, third day on my twelve day pledge. My little man stayed a little longer on his belly-time the third time around today. He didn't like it as much. In fact, he dread those times.
It's a lot of work for a little guy.

If you're doing yoga, that's close to staying in 'down dog' position for the entire half an hour. That's one heck of a work-out. So, I give him a ton of credits every time he tries to stay longer. He gets more cuddling time and smooches from me. Oh, he loves that.

He loves art too. The first day we brought him home from the hospital, he just stared and stared in the huge painting in our living room. And whenever he's cranky, facing him in front of one of my paintings around the house (or any art wherever we are) will sure calm him down. Amazing.

There's no guessing where he got that from. Not surprising to most as I'm an artist, but I'm still perplexed how a three-day old infant back then can appreciate art so much. Perhaps I was one of those 'adults' who underestimated their wits because of their size.

I can tell he liked this piece today. He voted his approval by squinting his bright eyes and wrinkling his nose bridge all at the same time, when I showed it to him.

A leap year, another painting and a baby. Today's significant 'threes'. But only the third will constantly remain to matter the most. At least for me.

Second Tulip

Click on photo to buy this painting.
Acrylic on acid-free & archival heavyweight fine art paper, 2.5 x 3.5 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork, $42.

Second day on my pledge, second painting. I love the contrast of the pinks against the blue background. Subtle yet powerful.

An Apple and a Brush

Click on Photo to Buy this Painting.
Watercolor on cold press 140lb Montval watercolor paper, 6 x9 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork. Price $90.

Two interesting subjects but an unlikely combination. Why together?

The apple. One of the most beloved fruit. The symbol of man's first reproduction. An easy meal replacement or snack which is also conveniently nutritious. 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away' won't be a popular phrase for no reason. It's pleasant to look at and boasts the prettiest primary color - red. For centuries, this succulent fruit has been the popular subject of still life paintings. The fine art masters painted it incessantly.

Which brings me to the brush. What will be a palette and a paint without it? Unless you're a finger painter, this bristly tool is indispensable. It's art's most esteemed metaphor. Museums and collectors have prided themselves not by just procuring and displaying works of art but with historic finds of antique brushes used by the masters.

So this is not 'just' a still life painting. It's a toast to two of life's greatest symbolic creations. One by God, the other by Man. Two incomparable beings brought together.

Just like my apple and my brush.

Peeling Bananas

Click on Photo to Buy this Painting.
Watercolor on cold press 140lb Montval watercolor paper, 6 x9 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork. Price $90.

It's evening, I know. I missed writing this morning. We had a busy weekend. Ever since I became a mom, my outlook calendar has been filling up to the brim.

It's because our little man is taking his own spots from our hourly schedules. From doctor's appointments, wellness classes, visiting families and friends, to play dates. I can go on and on. Merging those with your pre-parenthood schedule (that's already so tight to begin with) is an art of its own. I think that's why God made moms young (or young at heart like me).

It gets trying at times. And it puts your prioritizing skills to the test. On occasions when it gets tougher, I let out a big sigh and tell myself 'This too shall pass'. We have to take each day one at a time. Then, we'll get through it and still enjoy the journeys in between.

While painting this piece, I realized those trying times are like peeling bananas. You can't peel the skins off altogether. You have to do it one at a time, then enjoy the 'fruits' of your efforts after.

I say, be creative. Don't just eat the fruit, make it into a bread, pudding or parfait.

Savor the sweet rewards of your hard work. Give yourself a pat on the back (or side, if you can't reach your back) and acknowledge that you have done a great job.

You may have not peeled your bananas perfectly, but it was just right.

Pineapple

Click on Photo to Buy this Painting.
Watercolor on cold press 140lb Montval watercolor paper, 6 x9 in.
Watermark not present on original artwork. Price $90.

The icon of the tropics. It melts the winter blues away just looking at it. I bet whoever discovered this edible fruit long time ago, was very adventurous.

Who would think that inside the rough surface and spiky leaves is a sweet, tangy, slightly sour (when it's not overripe), juicy and fibrous meat. That's a lot of adjectives for one fruit. And don't forget the vitamins and cancer-fighting agents you get too. And again, the dietary fiber that is so good for you. I can almost hear my mom saying 'Eat your fiber.'

We ought to be more like that person who discovered it. Be more adventurous, look beyond the surface, love and appreciate others more despite their rough surfaces and spiky characters. Be a little more forgiving.

I can't wait to slice it and divulge on its sweetness. But first, let me paint it.

Multi-Asking

I'm trying to think if I know someone who isn't doing multiple tasks at the same time. Trying harder. Nope, can't think of anyone. Even babies are tasked to do a lot. Try giving a four month old his tummy time and urge him to scoot few more inches each time.

It's a serious hard work. Really, put yourselves in their shoes (or their socks I should say, they barely keep their crib shoes on) and imagine mountain climbing over and over again. That's how I think they must feel if you figure out the proportion of their growing body weight vis-a-vis their velocity goals. Pardon me but I'm an accountant, my reasoning most of the times revolve around numbers.

Multitasking. Writing it already makes me feel little pooped. Just a little. Whoever came up with the word must had a background in numbers too. Break down the word in two - multi plus tasking, equals multitasking. Then there's the root word - task plus suffix 'ing', equals tasking. See, what I mean. The word itself is multitasking, a singular verb representing more than one noun.

I believe the word was supposed to be Multi-Asking. Think about it, the extent of the things we have to do every single day depend on how much expectations we ask from ourselves. Or allow others to ask from us. And the new millennium is asking that we do most of it at the shortest possible time.

Multi-asking, that should have been the right word. But it would sound funny, it needs that consonant in between to make it sound right. It would have been nice to have the 'hyphen' (or dash) as a 'break' in between the two words. It sounds a little more playful.

Break and play. If you're going to add more from your 'to-do' lists, make sure you squeeze those in. Do yoga, make funny jokes or tickle someone. Find a breathing room, even if it means just closing your eyes for a minute or two. As simple as that.

Then, you'll be more than ready to tackle the 'multiples' in your lives.