When a calendar art
Sometime during my volunteer year in 2005, I hung an image by my bed—an artwork from a calendar that was about to be discarded. I had seen it a few times lying around our temporary dwelling, and each time my eyes landed on it, something held me there—briefly, but deeply. So i called dibs on it, before my housemates got any ideas about tossing it away.
Its colors felt like a nostalgic sunset, and it featured a family of four – a mother teaching her son to read, while the daughter playfully clung to her father’s back. They were enjoying a moment outdoors, and joy radiated from the family—peaceful, connected, whole. There was an unspoken energy, a calm presence that drew me in. So I taped it on my wall, layering strips of tape just to make it stick to the wood. It was the last thing I saw before I went to sleep and the first thing that greeted me in the morning. My only piece of art, my unspoken wish.
While lying in bed, It would swim in my thoughts.
It would be nice to have something like that—a simple, happy family. A companionship built on love, trust, and respect, creating a safe and loving space for the kids. The mother (had curves and collarbone and long flowy hair), a nurturer in every sense, and the father — playful and present in every way, leading and protecting his pack with strength.
And then i’d fall asleep.
At that time, it was just a feeling, not a plan. There was no urgency, no desperation, no expectation. Only a vision of what i wanted to feel – it was emanating from that image. For me, i was that woman in that image. You can call it a quiet delusion, but it is such a treat for the imagination. Almost like a certainty waiting to unfold.
Something you should know about me, is that at that time i was 24 years old, i had never been in any relationship. (But years before this, i did make a list of the traits i wanted in a guy – that will be in another blog.)
When i finished my volunteer year, i packed my stuff and took a snapshot of this image, and let it go. Its edges had browned – and time had worn it thin. It had outlasted the rest of the calendar, but i was grateful for it. For the kind of warmth it poured into me each time i looked at it.
After i moved back to Manila, i had to figure out what i wanted to do with my life. Got busy.
And that image faded from my memory. And a lot of things happened since then, including losing all my hair at some point to cancer in 2008-2009. (that’s another story)
Until 2012.
By then, i was living in Singapore. One evening, while i was scrolling through images on my phone, I paused.
My family.
Something about it felt strangely familiar, much like a dear old friend knocking on the door after years of being apart.
There was this strange feeling of deja vu. I had known this before—this feeling of lightness, of calm joy, of peace. Was i imagining it? I dug up photos from my volunteer year, and searched the image of THE ARTWORK.
And there it was. The feeling i had now, and the feeling i had years ago – it was unmistakable. It wasn’t just the coincidence of having a son and a daughter, and a partner. It was funny because even their hair resembled. Did I manifest my family?
The vision came true quietly, unnoticed for years. Life unfolded, and I stepped into the image without realizing it. I believe i married the personified version of the man in that image – whom i met a few months after i let go of that artwork. It was a whoa moment for me.
But the story of that image doesn’t end there.
One evening i told my mother in law about this interesting artwork that seem to have manifested my family. She listened and smiled knowingly, like that wasn’t uncommon. She told me that long ago, her son – my husband – had asked her to keep a picture too from a calendar—an image he wanted to frame.
“A painting of a family,” she said. “A mother, a father, a little boy, and a little girl.”
I stopped washing the dishes, and slowly turned to her. Every hair on my arm stood on end.
She misplaced a lot of documents when they moved, but as she described it, it seemed like….
No Way.
I was excited, but also practically freaking out. Could it really be the same image? My mind raced as I hesitated—unsure whether to feel thrilled or overwhelmed by the possibility.
With a mix of anticipation and disbelief, I showed her the image from 2006 on my phone.
She furrowed her brows, squinted, then reached for her glasses. Leaning in, she studied the image closely for almost a minute. And then—she gasped.
She looked at me. “It was this one,” she said softly, with so much fondness for a memory.
And I still could hardly believe what was happening. I could not have asked for a better story.
When I asked my husband about it, he barely remembered—but he did recall asking his mom to save part of a certain calendar for him – because he liked that image of a peaceful and loving family.
As he looked at it, something flickered in his expression—recognition, almost erased by time. The image stirred something deep within him. Something familiar, something he couldn’t quite name, yet somehow knew.
A few moments later, it dawns on him, like fog clearing to reveal a blue sky. He looks at it again, this time with refreshed eyes, then turns to me, his grip firm as he takes my hand. ‘Wait, I think its the same one,’ he says.
Was it coincidence? or was it Serendipity? It was so well orchestrated, it felt like the universe had a writer on its payroll. Somehow, long before we found each other, we had both been both orbiting the same vision. I looked at my husband, as a realization settled in—I didn’t manifest this on my own. We were in this together from the start. And now, we’re home.
//
Our family didn’t stop with just these two kids, through the years we’ve expanded beyond that image that started it. We’re now a family of 5+1. Since 2012, we’ve managed to keep that love in peace in our home. and we’ve recently celebrated our 17th anniversary.
