To the woman of my life - Thank you

He sits on his bed, puffing his cigarrete. He is staring blankly at the laptop. He looked like he is mesmerized by the blinking cursor. Something was disturbing him, inside. It woke him up in his slumber and now he finds it difficult to go back to sleep. If he could only have one of those apples that brough Snow White to sleep, he would gladly eat a dozen. That's how desperate he is. He just can't stand the flashes of memory anymore. It pains him a lot. It's like poking an open wound with a hot metal iron rod. So painful, you would rather choose death. He wanted to do something but he just couldn't figure it out.

Then his phone rings. Who would be calling at this time, he asked himself. The clock ticks and just hit 4:05am. The phone's caller ID showed the mystery caller. It simply showed, "Mama".

At first, he couldn't believe his eyes. He thought that he was dreaming. His mom wouldn't call at this time of the night. Then it hit him, it could be an emergency or something. His heart raced and he hurriedly picked up the phone and said hello.

Instead of hearing panic or fear, he heard something unexpected, she simply said "Hello" in her most calming and soothing voice.

"Are you at work?", she asked.
"No. But I'll be going there in about an hour.", he replied. Although he was not even suppose to work since it was his off, he was telling the truth. So much has been bothering him that he would rather spend his time working for him to be preoccupied.

"How are you?", her inquiry was delivered with such concern that he thought for a moment that she knows what is happening to him. Of course she doesn't. He convinced himself since no one knew. Maybe a couple of people but they would never be in anyway in contact with her.

He wanted to say he was okay. That he was doing just fine. Much to his surprise though, he found it hard to say. His heart was filled with sadness. Whomever said that it is easier to lie on the phone had to be kidding during that moment. He mustered all his strength though say it anyway and hoped he was convincing. But no, he was not.

His mother never reacted to the lie. Instead she asked, "Who are you with tonight?", as if expecting a familiar name to hear from him, well more of hoping to hear a familiar name.

His heart beat faster and became heavier. His breath became short and shallow. He wanted to cry. His voice started to break but he kept his composure. He mustered all his might to say, "No one."

There was a moment of silence between as if she understood and shared his sadness.
"Me and your sister will be dropping by the next day. You don't tire yourself too much at work."

"Yes. I'll see you by then."

"You take care." Those last three words hit him as hard as a rock against concrete. He couldn't understood how he was feeling. The urge to cry was clearly at the end of the ropes. And he knew that he could no longer keep up the act any longer.

"You too. Bye." That was all he could said and his mother hung up.

And then he broke down. He cried, cried like a baby in a cradle.
"Thank you mom."

Dance Part 2

They stand in the middle of the room.

Holding each other's hands.

Feeling each other's warmth, not filling the room, but filling their hearts and body.

A warmth that brings together day and night; that brings together the ends of the earth, a warmth that binds two souls into one.

But all of a sudden, the music stopped. They were both in a dilemma how to continue the dance, doubted if they would even continue or not. They struggled. They tripped and stepped on each other's foot. It became the clumsiest dance. In fact, it didn't look like a dance anymore but a routine of struggle. A routine wherein participants struggle to keep up and show the world that each remains standing.

They stopped. It was pointless. But the the silence brought them something unimaginable. They started to hear something. A rythmn? A melody? A music? A song? No! They weren't hearing any of those for they knew that it has stopped.

But what they heard was something beyond reason, beyond the boundaries of what they knew, what everyone knew.

But what the heck, they thought. They started dancing again to the sound that they hear, only they can hear.

The steps then became perfect again. Every stride became like a river flowing in its righful current. Bringing everything where it should be, rightfully.

The sound became stronger as they held each other close, closer.

It was later then they realized that what they have been hearing all this time were they hearts beating. Their hearts were giving them everything they needed to continue the dance. The dance we call life.

The beat of the music doesn't determine the steps and strides they took but rather the beat of their hearts, for what they feel inside, together, is what makes the dance perfect and not the music.