With indecision, the minutes turns to hours and days. We lose so many things. I didn't write because of being overly conscious, of saying that's not creative or insightful enough. Nothing would have been worth writing. It would have been worth the time to look back on things (in this case, mostly what made this life worth living) or that once in a while I was even insightful or that I was capable of critical thought.
So here's a pair of real, ordinary things that are worth writing.
I could never claim to understand women, but mostly they are right. I can't tell if Barbies are good for you, V., but we did talk about women empowerment and diversity. You flagged me for cultural appropriation when I called her "Asian Barbie." That's not her name, you said. "That's racist, Dad." Kuya followed up. I can't help but wonder what you'd call me out for when you're no longer just 3 and 9, respectively.
It takes so little to feel like a king. A dip in a saltwater poor with your family, a working staycation, a drink in between, a chess game in gold versus silver with salted caramel ice cream and coffee.
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