Sunday Brunch

One thing I understand about life, it can change, transform, end in an instance; like here today and gone, done, left tomorrow, hang on a chandelier, under a bus, a foot of a moving train, fly the distance like the Arctic Tern, landing on a tarmac of a runway plane kinda like it. Sometimes of our own accord, others by the graces of the Almighty and often times to no fault of our own. Things just happen and often as in many cases, we are not the drivers or on the seat, have no control of the vehicle but left to lean on the passenger seat and observe the mechanics unfolding in dismay.

Understand however, the destination has already been written, pre ordained, inscribed on the carousel of notebooks, the thrill of pandemic ecstacy, tearjerker of authentic recipes to live by. So, no point on locking horns but let be, sit on a corner, eat an avocado soup for the ages to cure and cool our worrisome souls.

It is life after all and it is left to us, individuals, to know how to navigate it, without pride, prejudice or arrogance, while maintaining perspective of what mattered, character, values and morals, who we are and/but be the best version of ourselves.

A Thing Called, Perfect

When we think we have it all, we don’t. You wouldn’t catch me saying it but there isn’t a thing called, perfect; no, perfect is not that perfect or cracked up to be. It is convoluted. It makes the perfect story, the best headline for the billboard charts but it is incomplete, a semicolon on a luggage of many Amens.

© Angela Aguiar