A Son & A Daughter - A Moon & A Sun Apart

My son and an only daughter, who are still single, stay with me and my husband. Lasty night they were both out.

With his classmates in law school, my son went straight to an overnight outing in a resort in Tanay; my daughter was on her night shift at a call center at Ortigas.

I prepared my greetings to the two of them this morning and texted my son thus:

My dear son… have you awaken early enough to watch the sun rising from behind the mountain? And have you lulled the moon to bed?

Wake up my dear and watch the mountains dressing up in mint suit half hidden behind the fogs.

As I was sending my text to my son, I felt some nostalgia that I could not send a similar morning greeting to my daughter. She is confined chilling inside a room with no fresh air and surrounded by thick curtains to hide the view of the towering buildings in a concrete jungle. So I texted her:

Hi dear daughter… Are you about to wrap up your connectedness with the people behind the voices—upbeat, thankful, pleasant, irate—to take your rest? But wait, did you remain cheerful through it all?

Come to the comfort of home and of your bed.

Then it dawned on me... my two dear children are poles apart. When they are just a few kilometers away from each other!

Justice... on Broken Chairs and Decrepit Shelves

A week ago I was attending a hearing in a prosecution office and was inspired once again by the dedication of public servants performing their work as best as they can . Despite limited resources and difficult working conditions.

The Assistant Prosecutor handled each case with dispatch, zeal and enthusiasm. It was quite a feat for him that morning, hearing about 15 cases--even more-- with ease and even healthy humor. His pleasant disposition put the parties themselves, at ease.

The parties were streaming out of the small cubicle of about 3m. by 5m., up to its narrow hallway and all the way out to corridor. I was squeezing myself through the small door, breathing on the neck of my opponent and trying to show my face to my client to assure him I was there for him. From where I was standing, I could feel the moderate coolness of the room against the steaming heat outside of it.

Halfway through the morning, my client signalled me to come inside the room for a just-vacated round monoblock chair. I had been standing on high heels for more than two hours that even a small chair with a cut circular seat would be a glorious relief.

I had to stand after some time, tired of sitting on a broken chair without a recliner. As I did, the chair got stuck on my midi pencil cut skirt and I panicked a bit because it was almost our turn. After I wiggled myself free I rushed across for a free space. As a turned, I saw my client—big build, 6ft tall—sat on the broken chair. I had to signal him frantically to get up. I could imagine him strutting, once called, with a chair for a tail.

This incident reminds me of my earlier experience. I was filing a 50-page complaint with about 50 pieces of evidence gathered painstakingly for almost two years when I noticed the broken filing cabinets inside the staff room. Records and evidences were spilling out of shelves held together by ropes. The bottom shelf had totally collapsed and documents were escaping through the crack. I worried about over how these cabinets would shelter my records.

After all of 18 years, my records remained intact and even transported in one piece, all the way to the Supreme Court which decided in my favor.

Justice has been served, despite broken shelves. And the wheels of justice continue to grind despite broken chairs.

The faithful public servants continue to dispense their duties through sheer dedication and resourcefulness despite the limitations and difficult situations in public offices.