Songs of a Sunday

The trip to the St Rose of Lima church was worth it.

More than two hours of driving through the scenic counties of Orange, Riverside, and then to San Diego, all of a little less than 300 miles from where you live was one journey of a lifetime.

And the trip was unplanned, not the least in the Ouija board of your Sunday dreams when finally after days and days of going to a work you do not exactly love but you must learn to like for all its tentative promise for economic upliftment, you can take the steering wheel and go where the wind blows.

The morning cold was a real morning even in summer.

So you take that precaution to resist the whims of California summer.

You take things in stride now even as you get to feel the loneliness of leaving a place like the mainland to take on a university teacher's job in insular Hawaii come the Fall term.

You count all you blessings and you remember that this is one Sunday you have to thank for, you have a lot to thank for.

This leaving and arriving, this departing and welcoming--this has been a pattern of your life like that lagalag going to where the El Dorado is.

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