A Time To Smell the Flowers
Yesterday, I went to an exhibit which showcased the native products of the place where I grew up. It was held at the entire fifth floor of one of the premier malls of the city where I now live. The place hummed with the welcoming sound of the region's familiar lilt, as I edged my way toward the kiosk to meet old friends.
leather and rhinestones
on abaca wallets and bags -
women at their prime
As I recognized each smiling face of former classmates from the all-girls school, the impersonal place turned into a warm, familiar one. Everybody knew everyone, at least in our group of twelve excited, chattering women eager to catch up on each other’s news. A late lunch after the show stretched into an even longer coffee at a nearby restaurant. We laughed as we recounted comedic classroom situations, times of mischief, and romantic trysts with old flames from the all-boys school across the street. The food was not particularly memorable. The moment was.
your face lights up
upon recognizing mine -
friendship survives time
We eventually broke into groups of threes or fours. My group, which included the batch Valedictorian, decided to continue our chat at another coffeeshop along the way. Each one shared personal angst, the latest in her career, and the familiar topic of loved ones. We parted around midnight, promising to keep in touch, a fitting end to a day which I will treasure for a long time. It was one of those breaks in my routine which I did not have to take, but I was happy I did.
in my journey
I saw a sign to stop -
time to smell the flowers
* abaca - hemp, material for bags, shoes, ropes, etc.
05 August 2015
For Scott37's HAIBUN
This haibun is adapted from my journal of a not so recent real event in my life.
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