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[av_heading heading=’MY LIFE AS ART’ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=” subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=” av-medium-font-size-title=” av-small-font-size-title=” av-mini-font-size-title=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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XXXV. LUNCH
INSIDE the bamboo cabana, where they had lunch, was a bamboo table. Why is bamboo a good symbol of exemplary conduct? Because it makes use of emptiness. It is hallow, no mind, no ego, but in its usefulness, it teaches generosity.
*
Later that day, under the coconut tree, Dulce held her baby, smiled lovingly at Matt, who was still sleeping, softly snoring on the sand.
She tugged at his shirt.
Matt, wake up. I’m hungry. It’s late.
Matt rubbed his eyes, stretched like a cat, sat up.
*
Dulce! How sweet her name sounded on his lips.
You’re still here. It wasn’t a dream.
Dulce laughed, What are you talking about? Come on, I’m hungry.
Matt stood up, extended his hand to her.
I’m hungry, too, he scratched his stomach.
What do you want for breakfast? he asked as he pulled her up.
It’s almost lunchtime. We slept good.
Well, we talked the whole night through.
*
Come on, I know a good place to eat. Delicious and inexpensive.
Matt and Dulce lunched in a bamboo cabana overlooking the sea that was eager to tell a story, but they were too happy to listen or to care.
On a bamboo table was the luncheon fare (or what was left of it) they feasted on: oysters on the half shell, steamed red shrimp (in garlic, chilli pepper, salt, ginger, pimiento, and butter), mung bean soup, grilled bangus with garlic vinegar sinamak, steamed white rice, and tanguigue kilawin.
*
An elderly vendor, bent, with sun-baked skin, in almost faded clothes, carrying a basket of goodies, entered their cabana.
Anyone for dessert? She inquired.
What do you have? Matt asked back.
I have some leche flan, candied sweet potatoes, majablanca. I recommend the leche flan.
Matt ordered, We’ll have some flan, then.
And maybe some sweet kamote for baby? Dulce added.
Wouldn’t that make him too flatulent? Matt asked Dulce.
You already fed him too many mashed beans.
*
Don’t be stingy, Dulce replied.
Baby deserves some dessert, too.
Matt simply shrugged. Okay. Just don’t blame me later. I warned you.
To the elderly vendor, All right, Manang, two flans, and two sweet potatoes.
The elderly vendor laid the order on the table.
Matt paid her, gestured to keep the change.
Thank you very much, the vendor said. God bless you.
*
Dulce mashed the sweet potato in caramel to make a paste, which she fed to the baby.
The baby giggled with glee.
What do you want to do this afternoon? Matt asked.
I don’t know, Dulce shrugged. I’m okay just being with you.
Then, she asked him, what do you want to do?
She fed the baby with sweet potato paste.
I really want to visit my grandmother’s grave, said Matt.
I wasn’t here when she died. I feel very guilty.
Do you know where it is?
No. But, the people at the church would know.
Okay, then. Let’s go!
*
Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere else?
The festival is for having fun, not cemetery visits.
Don’t be silly. I am totally happy being with you.
It was a stupid thing to ask, but Matt asked anyway, Really? (To be continued)/PN
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