When my three-year-old son woke us all up very early in the morning today because he wanted to pee, I immediately went on to open my laptop to check for updates. My wife was the one accompanying Nathaniel to the toilet. When I got to open my Facebook account, it greeted me a Happy Valentine’s Day on my timeline.
So today was Valentine’s Day, a day when most people became overly invested in just one day, not to mention the fact that it has become so commercialized. I don’t even remember about it until Facebook reminded me through the greeting. I’m not suggesting that celebrating Valentine’s Day is no longer important to me, but it’s just that I came to the realization of the fact that there are ample opportunities in any day of the three hundred sixty five days of the year we can show people how much we love them and truly care for them.
It was only after breakfast that my wife greeted me a Happy Valentine’s and a kiss on the cheek. “Wouldn’t you give me flowers, then?” she asked. “I’m not going to give you flowers from now on,” I said. “And what was the reason behind it?” she asked as she gave me a tiger look. “Because I came to realize you’re not a flower pot,” I told her.
We laughed together and when Nathaniel saw us laughing he joined in the laughter, too. It came to a point that I was so carried away by my laughing that I shed a tear. I started to feel a little pain in my stomach due to excessive laughing and the next thing I know was that I was catching my breath already.
Then I suddenly stopped. I wanted to tell her something serious, something important.
“But I had a garden I planted with plenty of flowers for you,” I told her.
“Where can I find that garden?” she asked
“Here inside my heart, the flowers never fade” I said pointing my left chest with an index finger.
“How sweet of you, thank you!” she said.
I went outside and tried to breathe some fresh air. It was a rainy Sunday morning but I can see a faint glow of incandescence painted upon the eastern skies. The sun must be in that particular spot, I thought, hiding behind such a thick cloud of gloom.
When it’s time to prepare what I had to cook for lunch, I had in mind about having a heavy meal but one which was easy to prepare. Grilled pork, I grilled pork (about a kilo and a half.)
Black grey smoke swirls upward as the hot charcoals burn the meat. “Why does the smoke always go up?” asked my wife. “Because of gravity,” I told her.
“But isn’t that gravity pulls objects down?” she tried to reason out.
“Yes, that’s why the smoke floats upward because it’s something that gravity can’t pull,” I explained.
“I’m confused,” said my wife.
“You shouldn’t,” I said. “There’s what they call in Physics a buoyant force, but why the smoke rise up depends on the existence of gravity.”
“Ah, was that really it?”
“I’m not even totally convinced but I had to believe it anyway,” I said.
“It’s a lot like love,” she said.
“Rising like an incense of an evening praying into the pure sky,” I said.
“The smoke, you mean?” she asked.
“Our love,” I said.
It’s okay to serve pink pork, I guess. But it doesn’t matter if I had overcooked it in the process.