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First Memory*

I want to remember my first memory in life. Sunny day, small footsteps side by side with the slow strides of my mother as we walked to playschool. The place was near our home; it was more a nursery than a school. Children frolicked, sang songs, and ate snacks together. As I look back, it might be the act of walking that has engraved an indelible mark upon my memory and my heart. I was breathing hard, climbing an uphill path, my heart pumping life to my weary legs. I remember trying to catch up with Mother’s pace.  I don’t remember what I was thinking then. From this earliest memory of childhood, I cannot remember mother’s words, only my hand in her hand as we tread the dusty path from our house to the brown, unpainted shack with a rusty roof, but its windows had curtains. If you ask me how I felt, though, I can tell you. I felt loved. I felt secure. My earliest memory is cradled on a sunny day. I love that I still seem to feel the warmth of her hand and the sun on my skin. And the ...
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Lockdown Diary Week 1

Lockdown Diary Week 1* I observe, somewhat surprised, that this lockdown can have a positive effect on most people, at least, the people I cross (virtual) paths with. Personally, I am amazed at the opportunity we have as a family despite the setbacks of this season. It is the authorities’ say that we stay inside, and they have imposed stiff penalties for violators. I don't want to pay a fine, but even without the punitive aspect, I think it wouldn't be hard for anyone to convince me to stay inside. (I am an introvert, and I will happily stay in my nest with the eaglets. I have my husband, my children, and some books. I still miss the sunshine on my children’s faces, though. I still miss the flowers and the birds outside.) Overnight, in the wake of massive isolation, I also observed singers, philosophers, actors, poets, chefs, teachers, bakers, and dancers being born or exposed. I guess we all have a way to counteract the malady of just existing by being creative. While people a...
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Sisters and Tea

Each morning when I drink my tea, I remember my sisters, sweet sisters overseas. Pretty please, pass the honey, too! I can't wait to see all of you. Ruth Solitario, June 4, 2020 Ruth is a published writer of poems and essays. She is also a journalist writing in Filipino and English. For half of her life, she was a legal writer in a law office for the underprivileged and marginalized. Recently, she began homeschooling her daughter and things changed. She is slowly recovering her childhood dreams, going back to the classics while thankful for the wonderful experiences she has gleaned from the "law office". She finished Philosophy, Psychology, and Law, and also sings (Soprano)! It is her hope that her education and skills will serve humanity and glorify God in some way, every day.
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Sleepyhead

Sleepyhead Early songbirds chimed a song to chide, " Come along ," they sang. " Sleepyhead, go outside. " (c) Ruth Solitario, June 2020 Ruth is a published writer of poems and essays. She is also a journalist writing in Filipino and English. For half of her life, she was a legal writer in a law office for the underprivileged and marginalized. Recently, she began homeschooling her daughter and things changed. She is slowly recovering her childhood dreams, going back to the classics while thankful for the wonderful experiences she has gleaned from the "law office". She finished Philosophy, Psychology, and Law, and also sings (Soprano)! It is her hope that her education and skills will serve humanity and glorify God in some way, every day.
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Writing When it's Crazy

Fresh off the byways... Sunshine and Flowers on Top of Your Page Write if you must, write about sunshine, when it's nothing but darkness outside. Write if you must, write about spring memories and seeds with flowers inside. Talk if you must, converse about love when loneliness whispers into every ear, and sprinkle the seeds of calm aspiration to everyone who may have lost someone dear. Sing if you must, of hopes and of dreams though fields are surrendering, dying in chorus; strum your guitar to the whispers and screams of happier times when young and so joyous. Cry if you can, and pray when you must and open your arms to receive. Good things will follow though we are of dust the best hang in there and truly believe. (c) Ruth Solitario, 19 April 2020 All rights reserved.
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Spring Feels in the Philippines

Spring is such a wonderful time to begin new ventures. Or it can be a time to revisit forgotten ones. For some, it is the fertile soil for growing, believing, and dreaming. Spring is an answered prayer, a continuing landscape, a fulfilled wish, a blank slate, a time to be. Spring, oh, how lovely. The air is warm, the flowers are budding. I can't help but get my guitar and sing as the mountains and fields wear colorful dresses and sing melodious bird songs --- What a lovely time is spring when all the trees are budding. The birds begin to sing. The flowers start their blooming. That's how it is with God's love once you experience it. You want to sing, it's fresh like spring; you want to pass it on. - Kurt Kaiser (Note: I just learned that spring in the Philippines is the months of March, April, and May. Practically, Filipinos like me seem to know that we only have two seasons --- wet and dry.) Ruth is a published writer of poems and essays. Sh...
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