Fleeting Portents

         “The Lord is near…”, she, saying them with closed eyes, and a contented smile, assured me. We were just finishing a hearty dinner of greens and fish, and she, being old, felt sleepy right then and there. I looked at her and smiled a quiet smile, and simply nodded. Lola slowly opened her eyes and returned the smile- the kind one that is full of wisdom and warmth. Her wrinkles seemed beaming, too. How I loved the way she looked.

          Old people always fascinate me- when they smile for any reason, when they laugh warmly, or even when they get irritated.

          Appeasing a cranky one is an art. You’d have to offer the right words, almost like how it is with children- just a wave of the magic wand, and all’s back to peaceful normal. Plus, you’d have to have patience potion right inside your pocket.

          Lola was just telling me to whisper to Him whatever it is in my heart. I wonder what is in hers.

         I walked her to my room. It was lovely having her for the rest of the Holy Week. I saw to her getting ready to sleep on my bed. I remembered her telling me how her helper wouldn’t cook monggo with chicaron since bawal. It was her favorite, though she accepted with a resigned frown. Cute.

          I finally bid her goodnight, as she said she’d pray for my wish also.

         I squeezed her hand and said quiet thanks.

         I wish to have her forever.

         And tonight, that’s what I’d pray for.