“Rose for you, Mommy.”
Edith’s dismay at another wasted tissue turned to smile when she saw Margarette’s rolled up paper. Inside, “I love you” was scrawled by six year old hands.


This post is a response to Trifecta’s weekend challenge :

“You already know where we’re going with this.  We want you to give it back to us in your own words, using your own subject matter.  Describe something that is three different things at the same time.  Oh, and do it in 33 words.  Structure your response however you want; it doesn’t have to mirror Mr. Gaiman’s form.  Feel free to leave us guessing.  Just make it your own, and make it good.”
Head on over to Trifecta’s page for great links and responses. 🙂

Have a great weekend everyone. 🙂


He was approaching.

She swooned.

He passed her by.

She followed, discreetly.

He saw her,  and smiled then laughed.

She exalted, swooned some more, then blushed –

a hanger dangled from her schoolbag.


Except for just one event, this story is true.  🙂

Years ago, when I was much younger, I had a flaming infatuation with a young college boy who passed by our apartment each day.  I fell in love with his red sperry topsiders first.  When I looked  a little higher up, I noticed his dark  hair, the fair face, the black eyes.  Oh my! He looked just like my idol – Robi Rosa of the  Menudo fame. (CAUTION:  Clicking Robi Rosa will lead you to a video of him singing ‘If You’re Not Here’.  Live.).

Each day, I would be waiting by the window or a nearby bench to see him go to school or go home – or wherever he went when he was walking away from school.   Somehow, I managed to work my school schedule and activities around his coming and going.  My friends at school knew that I could not stay for longer than a certain time on certain days because I needed to rush home to  see this guy.  My housemates would call me whenever they see him  too.  Watching him and giggling after having a sight of him became a daily ritual for us.

My infatuation and the thrill of being infatuated were so that I began following him, at a respectable distance, of course, when he walked to the bus stop.  To conceal myself, I would carry with me a paperback which I read while I was walking.  How I managed not to step into traffic, only Providence knew. But one morning, when I was  getting ready for school and  knew that he would be passing by on his way home from an early class,   I  dressed quickly.  I tossed  things here and there and everywhere, then left when I had all that I needed for the  day.   I caught up with  him at the bus stop and waited for him to get on his bus.  Afterwards, I took the bus that would bring me to school.   When I got my wallet from my bag to pay my fare, I saw the hanger hooked on a bag strap.  I surreptitiously put it inside.

I never knew his name.  My friends  gave me a theme song – “Tell Me Your Name”  by a Filipino artist.  But I never really wanted to know  his name.  Neither was I interested in meeting him.  I was afraid – afraid to hear a less than pleasant voice, afraid to see a speck of dirt on his nail, afraid of any random thing that could deflate my illusions.

In time, I moved to a different city.  That ended my trysts with this young man.  I have almost forgotten about this time in my life.  Yet now that I remembered it, I felt giddy and silly and young once again. 🙂

Thank you for dropping by and sharing a bit of silly.

Thank you Studio30+ for prompting me about a favorite childhood memory. You gave me an idea about how to  respond to Trifextra’s 33-word challenge this week, i.e. The Rule of Three is a writing principle that asserts that, in writing, groups of three have the most impact. This week’s challenge is to write 33 words using the Rule of Three somewhere among them.  It is up to you to interpret the rule, just make sure to use exactly 33 words.


The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.  She gazed at that beloved face, its eyes closed, a smile tugging at the lips. “Wake up!” Her mind screamed. The click of the lid pulled her back. And her tears fell.


The challenge posed by Trifextra:Week 32 is to add  our own 33 words to the following:

“The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.”


Need made her fly

to a foreign land

where like a slave

she minded

her masters’ home and child

that she can feed

her own little ones

now hungering

for their mother’s love.

“DH”, short for Domestic Helper, was a piece inspired by the countless women who, in order to support their own families, leave their homes to work in local or foreign households. This is my response to the challenge – “Forty-three years ago today, Neil Armstrong became the first person to ever walk on the moon. In celebration of Moon Day we want you to write 33 words about someone who took a giant leap. It can mean whatever you’d like, just make sure you write exactly 33 words” – by

Trifextra: Week Twenty-Five.

Please visit Trifecta’s page for more entries. 🙂

P.S.   After I hit ‘publish’, I learned that this is my 100th post too!  Yey! 🙂