By Virginia J. Pasalo
SOMEONE told me, “Yes, Virginia, there is such a thing as Santa Claus!”. First, I can believe anything as a child. I believed that my Uncle Opie’s airplane can land on our rooftop, and I would wave at each plane passing by, hoping for a landing. I believed that someday I would become a pilot, and catch the clouds with my palms. I believed that angels existed, and I would play with Archangels Michael and Lucifer, and that I can be in the Garden of Eden where I can be a snake slithering into Adam’s apple, and find what’s behind the leaf, and why it never falls.
I still believe in some of those I used to believe in as a child, although I quit asking Santa Claus for anything. Now I ask the help of my dear friends who passed on to other dimensions, to intercede in my behalf. I believe they are in the best position to follow-through things I bring up to God, and remind Him/Her in case I forget, or He/She becomes busy with other things. It works most of the time, whenever I call Tessie de Venecia, because I can argue with her and she can insist on my petition, without going to Hell.
I am presented with a second chance. It has nothing to do airplanes and clouds, or angels or gardens. It has nothing to do with what I used to believe in. God is playing Santa Claus and giving me a gift, with a threat to withdraw it if I do not act with the speed required to keep it. I will wait and take my time, and see whether God will be pissed off and choose to withhold, and make me suffer, forever, the absence of the birds and the bees.
i want you to close your eyes
when once you saw me
for the first time
from the corner of your eyes
nibbling raw corn,
a fresh harvest
i was weird, wasn’t I?
you were aghast as I told you a story
of my father, teaching me
how to eat small river shrimps
alive, as they jump in my mouth
and then again, you saw me
tasting the soil
and I caught you looking, shocked.
like, what will she eat next?
in a weird way, i thought of you
my next victim.
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