Let's ride a trade wind like paper airplanes.
Let's watch the sky wheel & wheel
from under straw hats.
- from Mike Dockins' Poem of Low Latitudes
It was the last hurrah of a three-week vacation in Manila, even though the Manila trip wasn't really a vacation or that this last hurrah wasn't even in Manila. I probably confuse you. But there was nothing confusing about that weekend in San Pablo where the sun stayed inside our cozy room, lingered in the loft; where the hammocks swung into the sunset; where I felt it was actually possible to escape in a world that looked and smelled and tasted like home.
I went everywhere with NK Jemisin's The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms that weekend. I could have easily been just as happy with Michael Ende's Never Ending Story or Madeleine L'Engle's And Both Were Young. If only I held on to it a little bit longer or smiled a little more often or remembered how much of a good thing I really had.