Morning Comes

I had a good short chat with my doctor today.  I told him I am a survivor. He asked how long ago it was. He told me to forget about it. I have survived more than five years. What is important is that I am well now. Yes, I said. Health is wealth. He advised me to avoid stress as much as possible because it is the number one cause of illness. I do agree. It’s a good thing my blood pressure is now normal and my blood sugar has been consistently normal for the past four months since my first visit the last week of  January. I have to keep on the maintenance though, it’s for life.  He said to always be happy and look on the brighter things. Everyone of us has problems to overcome.

I suddenly remember one of our favorite topics before on our page at Facebook. Which is more important, the journey or the destination?  The journey would always be difficult somehow but then there is a certain kind of joy when we reach our destination. Maybe our attitude towards reaching our dreams counts a lot.The road maybe sometimes rough and treacherous but we carry on. We want to take a glimpse of what lies ahead.

Can’t believe it. My son is turning thirty-three tomorrow.  Seems like only yesterday when we would walk together to the next street in our subdivision, he, to go to school and I, to wait for my FX service in going to work.  We had adopted this ritual of listening to a fifteen minute Bible reading and reflections in one of the FM stations on radio by a Dominican priest.  It was aptly called The Sounds of the Soul. Along the way, we would discuss what we heard and learned. Those were the days that I miss.  The program is gone now replaced by morning news. Until now, my son and I still go together to attend mass on Sundays. Sometimes,  he attends one in the morning with me and one in the evening with his girlfriend.  He never forgets our Sunday obligation.  Looking forward to a simple birthday celebration. He’ll be on vacation leave for a few days.

I am into memoirs now, a two-series books by Susan Cutsforth, a journey of taking risks, living an extraordinary life in a town somewhere in France. I can’t help but compare the writings with that of Peter Mayle’s trilogy, memoirs about his stay in Provence. I love the latter’s works. He is a British author

How was your weekend?

 

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