Jandrea...so far

Psych best buddies             At 55, I am like a mother to this group of 20+ and 30+ year-olds. I do play that role to them sometimes but most often, I like believing that I'm just one of the gang. I hang out in the lounge in between and after classes and take long lunch breaks with them. Our tummy-aching laughter is our balm to our not-at-all humdrum life as teachers.  Trying to mold the lives (not only minds) of our students the best way we can gets tough sometimes. Avoiding being hit in the cross-fire or being the target itself in some skirmishes is a challenge we have to face, and it really, really helps that we can seek cover in each other's company. Getting our act together as decent human beings is a tad easier knowing that  with our slips and mistakes,  we will expect any of us to say "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk!"  but that same someone will lift us up, anyway.  Our seemingly mundane victories (ranging from completing a syllabus to getting the perfect haircut) are e

First, it started with a longing to have a place of refuge, away from noise and mess of my city life. Maybe a room in someone's house in Tagaytay I could rent or borrow whenever I needed to be by myself. Just a small one with just enough space for a bed and a table to hold my books and laptop. But that room had to have a breathtaking view! One that would inspire me to think, dream, and write. That's when I thought that space had to be high up on a tree. And then of course, there were the basic necessities for which I would need a kitchen and a bathroom. So the small room had to have siblings of similar size. Yes, that would still fit into my tree house, I thought! Then, it ocurred to me that my 50+ knees and legs would have to negotiate a ladder to get up to the rooms on a tree. Imagining my struggle to get to the top, I started giving up on my treehouse. Until.... ta... rah... I saw this photograph! Yes, yes, yes!  It fitted all the specs of this ever-hopeful, ever-drea

   Day after day, I get more reminders that I am fast approaching my Senior years. On the beach last month, I espied a really cute little boy named Zuriel, and said hello. His aunt struck a conversation with me that centered on how I must have looked in my younger days. Oh no! This was the second time in just a few weeks that there has been reference to my advancing years. There was no denying now that I am really Lola material (check out my earlier blog on this).                                                                                                                                                                             And so, it was then that I  decided that I had just a few more years to get on with what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Time to prepare my bucket list and plot strategies on how to achieve each and every item on the list.  And number one on that list was ... forget my age. Hehehe!