A Taste of Heaven. No, make that glimpses of heaven

Last Saturday, my husband and I were in Power Plant. As we wheeled along R2, suddenly, a man stopped us on our tracks from behind. Panting he said, "Pumasa si Carlo sa UP." Initially, I had to stop and think who he was. His face was all flushed and it was one I don't always see. But he ran after us with that great news regarding his son. And we were very happy with him, for him, his son and the family. I was particularly touched that he considered us such good friends, family even, so that he felt he had to share the happy news with us, believing we'd be so happy for them. And we were.

Surely, that was one proud and happy father we saw there. It felt so edifying to experience a victory vicariously, all over again.


(the father I wrote about is the brother of two siblings we are close to: a priest and his sister. The family is a very welcoming one and any member's friend becomes the family's friend. I hope you get the drift?)
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Prior to going to Power Plant, a sister asked if we would be in Makati during the weekend. I told him we'd be going. Then, when we were in Power Plant, before I could even text her, she texted to ask if we were there already. Some time later, she texted back to say she had some Yoku Moku cookies for me.

If you read an earlier blog of mine, I had swooned about those cookies, which I first tried before a lauriat after a Chinese friend was laid to rest on the ground. (days before he had been cremated after a weeklong wake in a coffin). Then, when this same sister went to Japan, I had asked her to get Yoku Moku cookies for me, offering to pay for them because I had been warned by a Japanese professor that they were expensive. My sister didn't charge me for the lovely tin of double chocolate Yoku Moku cookies she brought. They were heavenly. We ate those cookies sparingly because we knew we might never, ever get a chance to have them again. They are not available in the Philippines. Thus, when she said she had new cookies again, I decided to consume the rest in the old tin and saw 3 pieces when I got home. hahaha. enjoy.


Anyway, back to the story.

So when my sister texted she had some to share, my taste buds grew excited. But not until I took the first bite after dinner in a CHinese restaurant did I relive the experience of biting into it. I just had to say to my husband after I took the first bite, "This tastes like heaven," while handing him the bigger portion of what remained. This time around, the cookies came in several flavors, mostly nut-based: macadamia, almond, etc. Of the lot she gave, we've shared just two: my husband, son and I. And that's not even one each. Or maybe my son also ate one by himself?

The new batch of cookies were wrapped in red, blue, yellow and green plastic wraps with Christmas designs. Very spare designs as only the Japanese can, so very elegant in their simplicity.