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My parents sit at the kitchen table, content
with dinner, waiting for the rise to the crescendo for Te Deum.
As soon as we hear it, my father cocks his head and, with a wistful,
faraway look, mouths, "Te Deum." My mother smiles and
says softly, "You know."
While she cooks in the kitchen, I motion him
to sit with me in bed. I lay my head in his lap, motionless.
We wait as the music reverberates and washes us over and over
again. Somewhere in the distance, I hear my mother call for dinner.
As she enters the door, she sees the quiet contentment on my
father's face. Cognizant of the beautiful moments in life, she
continues to cook and leaves us in love and contemplation.
Tatay listens while I walk to the kitchen to
take my place at the old, brown table. I eat while she sits across
me, serving food and singing parts from the Magnificat. Along
with the chicken adobo and rice, I swallow her hardship. I tell
her that when Tatay cocks his head, it is as if he is himself
again, quick, intelligent and just as conscious of life as he
used to be.
"Sometimes when Tatay and I talk, moments
of clarity shine through his eyes and for that brief moment,
he's O.K. again."
"He's in pain from the medication, and
he can only catch his breath so much. He's still quick in his
mind; and anyway, he's always been so loving that it's not hard
for me," she answers in his defense with a determination
and assurance I could never touch. The music carries me and I
realize how blessed I am to have her in my life. All those years
she waited, with dinner always ready at midnight. The epiphany
hits me hard. Without missing a beat, she hurries me to my afternoon
workout, taking the plate from my hand to be washed and proceeding
towards the sink.
But before I leave, I go to their room and
lie in bed with my dad. I put my head on his shoulder. With his
eyes closed, he tells me how the music takes him out of himself,
just like the healing CD's I bought him a few years ago. He asks
me if I remember. We face each other in fetal positions and hold
tightly, listening and breathing as the world and the pain, the
drama and trials slowly vanish away.
Jogging through the park lanes that night,
I hope no one sees my tears as I run past the green hills and
the yellow, flickering lights.
Bio: Ivy Capanang Peñaredondo currently
resides in the beautifully diverse city of San Jose, California,
which provides her with daily inspiration and creative juices.
She is driven to write daily, on yellow post-its, torn napkins
at the Vietnamese coffee shops, worn note books from class and
whatever she can get her hands on. She received a scholarship
from Cal Arts in Valencia, Ca. in 1992 for their CSSSA Program
(California State Summer School for the Arts), an intensive four-week
creative writing, performance, film/video and visual arts course.
She currently takes English classes at a local college and majors
in Journalism. You can reach Ivy at penaredondo@yahoo.com.
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