Four Seasons

In less than two weeks time, it will be Christmas day. While I contemplate the birth of Jesus, I am also enormously grateful to God for bestowing a precious gift - a writing ability that I continue to hone to this day. I would like to close this year’s column with a prayer. Father our thou that art in heavens I was thinking for a theme to write and was, instead, led to make a compilation of my articles that fortunately saw light for publication in few local and national magazines and dailies. One at a time, I placed each one in chronological order, cautious not to mistakenly skip a piece nor mistakenly put one before or after the other. Be thy name hallowed Praise to Him! There were almost a hundred of them, a hundred pieces of short stories, which when taken as a whole, would definitely weave a charming yet heartrending masterpiece only my life story could convey. When you read between the lines of each story, you read the fine points of my existence. Come thy kingdom Pray...

It seems it will be a lonely Christmas in Brookings. No ever-vibrant carolers and their songs. No aesthetically pleasing decors appealingly hang in each household. No huge, I mean HUGE, colorful lanterns lined-up on busy sidewalks. No effulgent blinking series lights that mimic the enchanting twinkle of the midnight stars. Nothing special (not even the lights at the downtown area) is telling me to cruise to the nearest post office and have my most valuable cards sent with Yuletide greetings and good cheers to my family back home. Sigh. Even though I saw Eve this weekend (the girl I secretly admire at the Student Union) and even talked to her, the holidays would still be lacking with lustrous. By the way, she looked extra super-doper gorgeous and I just melted like a candle, however, a million times faster. Maybe she already knew that the previous article I wrote was for her. Though barely felt, the holiday season is here. I am wishing that Eve could do magic and trick the n...