Weekends In Heaven . . .

. . . weekends is taking long walks down heaven . . .

. . . holding the Hoyas and marvelling at their beauty

and telling them I truly miss their singing . . .

. . . telling Poinsettia that its OK not to struggle with her red leaves.

That I will always love her in all her colors!

. . . and caressing Mandevilla

dancing to the heat and sudden rains . . .

. . . of blowing kisses to Chicky, our chico tree,

 and thanking her for sheltering the birds . . .

. . . and also for Yvon, the avocado tree,

for another great harvest this year . . .

. . . hmmm, where is that guacamole recipe of Denise? . . .

. . . of waving to Petrocelli on the roof

and wishing him a sound nap after lunch . . .

. . . and for my Sweepy and Babur

sleeping while I read the papers

and scan the pages absentmindedly . . .

Weekends are for relaxing

and staying grounded

and breathing deep and long

and not go with any schedule . . .

and capturing my stories

and making do with a camera phone . . . .

. . . of releasing multiple data in my brain

and waiting for the whir of life to stop and pause

and for me to understand the confusion and chaos

of a topsy-turvy week, 

and the magic that it holds

and the promise of a breather from the madness . . .

How was yours?