Towards the end of our dinner, just before we were about to leave, I noticed what looked like a scratch on one of the window posts next to our table. "Look, we’re seated at table 8!" Right then, we smiled and knew that for the things that are meant to happen, nothing gets in their way.
I really wish that the weekend didn’t have to end, because that last one I had was amazing. I love driving around with Paulo. I enjoy looking out for signs, tracking down landmarks that would eventually tell us if we were on the right track or not. But most especially, I love the conversations we have together, while he is attentive to the road and I, busy fiddling with the air-conditioning or the radio.
One of the things I realized over the weekend was this: an opportunity by itself does not exist. Something only becomes an opportunity when you act on it the moment it presents itself. In the grand scheme of opportunity-creation, timing is crucial.
I have been obsessed with scanning every scrap of paper I can find that I’ve kept for the past two decades to remind me of my “youth.” And when I say “scan,” I don’t mean visually. I mean, literally laying everything out on top of the flatbed and digitizing every post-it, random note, tape receipt, etc. I’ve been scanning since last weekend and I feel pretty accomplished, especially when I get to fill out an entire waste basket with scraps of paper and memorabilia.
The realization that baby fat doesn’t automatically disappear as you get older. The older you get, the harder it is to get rid of it.
Each year I get older, I tend to reflect on the previous year’s birthday celebration and realize, it just keeps getting better - both the celebrating and the getting older parts.
Thinking positive is healthy and does work.
As the years pile up, I just keep on getting more and more content. And that feeling is one of the best gifts one could ever receive.
I don’t know how many Filipino families still make it a point to get cakes for their loved ones’ birthdays, but we still try to keep the tradition of candle-blowing alive, no matter the age.
Two years ago, my birthday cake came five months late (one summer day when my Mom ordered a huge lemon chiffon cake with sugar icing from our neighbor who owns a bakeshop). This time, my mom made it a point to make it up to me, hence, a quick side trip to a local bakeshop for my cake of choice (Coffee Crumble from Red Ribbon, a no-brainer decision at least for me).