FLOOD CONTROL & A HEART

Every time a really heavy rain falls, floodwater builds up in the small space between our kitchen wall and our neighbor's tall concrete fence, then seeps into our kitchen. I'm not entirely sure if the government has anything to do with it, apart from the property contractor apparently taking inspiration from its flawed flood-control projects. I can almost read their minds: "If the government can do it badly, we can do it even worse!"

So I hired one of my brother's workers who is an all-around skilled dude whose resumé includes waterproofing narrow spaces between kitchen walls and neighboring tall concrete fences. Yes, that specific.

For about six or seven (6,7

) rainy days, the project seemed to work well. But when the next monsoon arrived sooner than expected, the flood control couldn't control the flood anymore.

Instead of reporting the anomaly to Sec. Vince Dizon, my mind pivoted to self-preservation: I'll do this thing myself. I summoned my lower back, and my joints to cooperate. My mind too. This was as much mental as it was physical.

For four consecutive days, I was a man of grit, valor, and brawn.

My son, Andre, even asked, "Dad, why not have the waterproofing specialist redo it instead of doing it yourself?"

I told him, "There is one thing that other people cannot do that only I can: do this with a heart."

And yes, mi gran corazón worked!

No more puddles. No more mopping. No more worrying whenever the rain comes down hard.

The heart did it.

Fast-forward, or rather, backtrack 32 years.

Thirty-two years ago today, my queen and I made vows to each other. I may have forgotten the exact words, but I remember the promise: that with God's help, I would do everything in my power to protect my queen and our future family with all my heart.

Heart.

For 32 years, that has been my story.

And for all the years still to come, it will be the same heart.

Shut up, joints and lower back! We've got this covered.

Happy 32nd anniversary, my Doe-a-Dear!

Te quiero mucho.

P.S.

One day, we were alone in the house. While I was doing my thing in the dry kitchen, Rissa was listening to her favorite podcast with her AirPods on.

I let out a loud, proud, warm fart that shook my chair.

"Did you say something, dear?" Rissa asked as she removed one AirPod.

"Yes, dear."

"What?"

"Um... Okay ka lang diyan?"

Yep! 32 years strong...