Remnants

Remnants.

I am still haunted by the remnants of our memories,

infested by their dusts latching on to my skin,

and blemished by the scabs and scars of my old wounds.

I have been refusing to remember you,

but your image is a fact hidden in my subconscious,

and a glaring truth in my dreams at night.

And now I have to face the remnants,

the pieces of what used to be and will never be,

wisps of the smoke of joys and sorrows,

and a speck of what once was a true love.

Remnants, which I am glad that just are,

for I know that soon,

these dusts will be blown away,
the scars will solely be patches that'll add to my beauty,

and the memories will fade like colors in photographs.

I am sure that soon,
my heart will be again clean and new

for a kind of love that will stay whole forever.

Who is Your Teddy?

"Who's that?" the four-year-old girl pointed at something among the stall of Christmas decors in the department store. In her left arm, she held her favorite teddy bear.

"Huh?" her uncle asked, peering at the direction the little girl was pointing.

"There," she pulled his hand, dragging him towards the life-size belen. "Who is this baby?"

"Oh, that's Jesus," her uncle answered, smiling to her.

"Why is he lying there? It's dirty there," asked the girl.

"Well," he scratched his head, "Because his parents cannot find other place for them to stay."

"Why? Are they poor?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," her uncle answered with a nod.

The little girl's lips quivered. She looked to her teddy bear then to baby Jesus. She held her teddy bear tight, grabbed her uncle's hand, and dragged him away from the belen.

While walking, the little girl looked up at her uncle with watery eyes and said,
"I'm not giving Teddy to Jesus."

Waiting with a Cup of Fruit Tea

Here's a cup of fruit tea.

It's supposed to be hot. Not anymore. She's been waiting for 2 hours now. Her yellow handbag sat on her lap, her itouch in her hand. She opened the iBooks app then closed it. She did not feel like reading at the moment.

"Traffic. Emergency meeting. Diarrhea," whatever reason that was, she understood. He promised to be there, so He will be. He never broke a promise, and He won't tonight.

She gulped the fruit tea until empty. Perhaps, the green tea would also taste good. She stood up, pressed the water boiler labelled Green Tea, and filled the cup to the brim.

It was quarter to 7, and she was firm on staying - on waiting. The chair felt good in her butt, and her favorite game show was on TV. While watching the girl lift the can with a straw, she blew the wisps off the cup and took a sip. Green tea tasted good as expected.

The tall, pretty girl won. Her favorite game show was over - it was 7:01 p.m. Her green tea's lukewarm now - her second tea, and yet He still hadn't come. She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking if she should wait some more or go and tell Him she needed to...because of traffic, emergency meeting, or diarrhea. She finished her tea. Now, she got an empty cup, a different show on TV, and an iBooks app she did not feel like clicking. She had to go.

She put her itouch inside her bag and zipped it. She stood up, walked towards the glass door, and pulled it open with the handle. As she went off, a piece of paper fell on the floor. A waiter picked it, pulled the door, and waved it in the air, "Miss! You left this!" But she was already too far to hear him. Maybe it wasn't that important. The waiter looked at the paper in his hand, which words read:

I'll meet you in the tea shop at 8:00 p.m. I have something for you. - Jesus