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!
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