[L, diary, ephēmeris] 1) BLOG

--Vincent Van Gogh--

...Monica, 13, and I have been attempting to learn each other's language. But, as she has not yet learned to read in any language, projects with the alphabet have been the focus.  With the advent of other student's days occupied with their school's modules, and Resty Joy (also 13) not having a group to study with, she brings her weekly module to the house for companionship as well as to give much needed help with translations of Bisaya/English between myself and Monica.  Here is our first creative effort to learn the alphabet: 

Initially her alphabet began 'A B D C...' but we corrected and continued, leaving the 'N' reversed accidentally.  Her difficulty reciting the correct sequence for 'G' and 'J' prompted a second hands-on exercise, to reinforce by repetition, but this time with water color paints on Upper/Lower case letters:

This exercise included four of us this time, all of us painting while singing repeated chorus's of the Alphabet Song.  Here is Resty Joy's work,  showing delightful skill at graphic design:

Ludy's poster and mine:

To keep motivated and to rewarded for the arduous work of learning to read and write any language, we start our afternoons with choosing a recipe to bake for snack. Here, we're making Apple Muffins:

...after copying the recipe in both languages (myself included in this task of learning to speak their language), Monica has the added incentive of later encoding the recipe for printing and collecting into her own cook book.

"If no one ever took risks, Michelangelo would have painted the Sistine floor."

--Neil Simon--

(me? The best thing I can say is that I keep the girls laughing with my attempts to paint in their language)

--James Clear--

I'm not sure I  believe in 'closures,' if that means dismissed, done, no longer existing. Things change, yes, but even with surgical closures there is a necessary physical rejoining of 'before and after' to facilitate a body's continuity of life. Memories, even if faded or poorly recalled, leave indelibly woven color and texture throughout our individual life tapestries. Impossible to remove seamlessly without subtly altering the whole.

With this blog post, the third and last in a series of evolving/resolving changed circumstances, I can finally--again!--feel joy seeing photos of loved ones, past and present, in a collage on PILAR's  bulkhead: her 'Galley Gallery.'  It has been achingly lonely when looking at the empty space surrounding reduced photos of what had once held pride of place.  But today, with a fresh set of photographs to mount...

HERE IT IS!  It's a work in progress that includes a resized portrait of  what was (upper right/middle), with what is (middle/bottom), and leaves room for what will be:

A month ago I ended my last blog post with this:

"Delighted with a further revelation, I remembered a previously written story composed at the end of  one especially perfect day with the children in the pictures. Intended only as a no-frills account for myself, it exemplified the rich life as lived in a marina.

 

I will post it to follow this one...soon..."

 So...here it is, and why: 

The events of that day had humbled me with gratitude.  It was one of those wonderful moments when a sudden pause allows shifting of perspective into something larger, poignantly beautiful. For me, it was recognition of finally living our dream after nine years of building our boat/our home. 

It happened in the tired and very last hours of a long day filled with minute, mostly mundane moments,  when--with a sink now full of dirty dishes--PILAR's last water tank ran dry.

I hope you will smile and laugh as much while listening, as I did, while living it:

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