Seasons
Posted at 08:58 AM

Holy Thursday. A gray day. Not really. It was a black and white kind of day. The trip to Quezon was warm comfort -- a much needed release for this weary witch. Let me unravel a few details about the trip. I know that as much as I want to be discreet, my addiction to share my little stories is too much to contain. No, I am not forced to disclose my little pleasures. I am resolved to embrace it and part their sweet endings with you (if there is indeed an end to their sweet rapture). And so, indulge... The road was a constant swerve to the left and swerve to the right. Smooth and languid, the master behind the wheel knew his forte'. We made several stops to the gasoline station to quench the gray Lancer of its thirst. Occasionally, we would halt just so King Z would be able to suffer his burning for majestic sights, large trouts along the barriotic sidewalks, and fantasies of fishing and lore. I would just stay inside the metal steed as everyone got off to bask in the sun. Whoever said getting scorched is fun? Not my cup of tea, thanks! I just slumped and curled into a cocoon as I went on to hibernate through the trip. The brat would utter my name in an interrogating tone but I was already engulfed by the most pleasurable sleep. Imagine, moving vehicle, drowsy sun's rays, amber tinted glasses that lull you to happy land. Go figure. Several stops to purchase block ice and heart shaped mangos; we were off to thread the land of rebels and provincial virginity. My brat prince kept twisting his head left and right to avoid getting a stiff neck from driving the 5-hour journey. He's been having a terrible cold. Poor, baby. El paradiso, at last. The sun was tamer but would still burn Lestat's alabaster skin. The room we've reserved was a bit smaller than the last time we came for a vacation. Good thing, a few folks decided to go home that night. We were able to partake of the joys of air-conditioning. I still wonder how a dozen leisure lads and lasses managed to fit inside one room. Oh, I almost forgot. Kuya Dinky brought a tent and an airbed. Forgetfulness managed to seep in. Tsk! I slept beside the fairy prince to nurse him of his now aggravated cold, which has turned into flu. I kept waking up due to his wheezing and sneezing. But, there's nothing that can match menthol touch therapy and lavender and chamomile massage. The gentle giant finally slept and there was no need to chop off the beanstalk. Morning. Black and white has faded. A glint of color shows through the seashore panorama.

Blood Canticle by Anne Rice Seasons by Chris Cornell