“Maybe being still is how you turn your attention from the logistics of your own trajectory to the passage of all the other beings and their shadows.”
— The Art of Arrival: Rebecca Solnit on Travel and Friendship
August came by past me. Same with July. My train of thoughts even stalled somewhere I don’t know. So this intro line of this post sucks. I’m sorry. This, as I have read from all the tips and pointers coming from WordPress’ The Daily Post on writing and blogging. Not that I discount theirs but respectfully, this is me trying to compose something. With the aid of some music from Spotify piping in stimulating my brain cells that might just lead me to a more sensible flow and a relaxed tone that my readers would want to continue reading. Because getting across matters to me more so I reread my past posts often. Dragging that we are our own’s worst critic but it is not all the time that critical. Just for the sake of joy of reading past thoughts that might lead to a new post.
My bestfriend-twin sis popped me a message one time telling me that her blog is boring, followed by our signature hahaha — true form in words instead of an emoji that most likely could be easily clicked on a digital keypad. But we stay true to this form of communication long before we ever thought of having our own smartphones to this day. I replied, our blog is crazy boring. I added that I might delete it(this). I seconded that I have been thinking shortly of really doing it but no plans just yet. She continued that it is just a phase. It is a waste and just leave it alone — my blog. All of these rapid fire of exchanges have some in between and at the end, again, our hahaha. Crazy as it sounds, we past that moment. That was just our walking-to-get-some-air kind of talk. A sign or kind of thinking that one of us might not notice otherwise in telling ourselves to keep pushing, in this matter, our blogging experience. Our stories, our lives matter. We may not have a ton of followers, or our stats doesn’t even spike traffic in thousands of views but we are here to keep it. To immortalize our mundane thoughts, lifestyles and all other experiences that will continuously remind us of writing something personal. That that something is what is real and important to us.
When my mother was admitted in the hospital for her hypertension few months ago, one of the check-up procedure is her EKG or ECG. This to record and check the electrical activity of a patient’s heart. So low voltage of electricity will be passed to the body through electrodes. Now I sound like Wikipedia. Fast forward, for this test to happen on my mother she is required to remove any metal, jewelry or electronic devices away from her body. That day she is only wearing her wedding ring. The nurse asked her to remove it. She budge as if to remove it but I know she wouldn’t be able to. It was stuck to her finger. I have heard her say couple of times that she can’t removed it. There was an instance she accidentally removed it but it was long before our father left us. And decided to put it right back in. She added that the last time she was tested it hadn’t been removed. I was quiet. The nurse insisted that it should be removed. She told mother to ease the removal with soap. Mama told her it is just not easy. It is really stuck. With an ounce of annoyance now floating inside the room, she told the nurse that she might have to let it cut off of her finger. Nurse replied in a soft tone with a feeling of regret and sentiment, “Don’t. It is your wedding ring.” Mama and I looked at each other. Knowing she might talked over the nurse’s remark, I continued standing there. Quiet. So as to let know not to. It felt like there was a lump in my throat. But I let it past me in seconds. The nurse went outside to ask someone at the nurses station. She went back and did the test without Mama taking her ring off of her finger. That same ring that is now ironic and mere jewelry for me.