"Come on, Elijah. Smile for your Ima."
"I’m telling you, Ziva, that smile the other araw was just gas."
"It was not, Tony. He was smiling and I will get him to smile again."
"Whatever you say, David."
"Come on, smile, baby. Yes, Mama is shaking your hand. You pag-ibig to hold Mama’s hand. Smile."
"I’ve never heard you talk baby-talk before, Ziva. Frankly, it’s a little scary."
"Would you rather I yell at him as if I were interrogating him? Because I could do that."
"No you couldn’t. You’ve gotten soft. And I pag-ibig it."
"Ah! Tony! Did you see it? He smiled!"
"It was probably just gas."
"I will kill you if you take this away from me. It was a smile."
"I’m telling you, Ziva, that smile the other araw was just gas."
"It was not, Tony. He was smiling and I will get him to smile again."
"Whatever you say, David."
"Come on, smile, baby. Yes, Mama is shaking your hand. You pag-ibig to hold Mama’s hand. Smile."
"I’ve never heard you talk baby-talk before, Ziva. Frankly, it’s a little scary."
"Would you rather I yell at him as if I were interrogating him? Because I could do that."
"No you couldn’t. You’ve gotten soft. And I pag-ibig it."
"Ah! Tony! Did you see it? He smiled!"
"It was probably just gas."
"I will kill you if you take this away from me. It was a smile."
So, I'm not even sure that this is long enough to be considered an article, but here goes.
I was going through one of my old notebooks and I found a poem that I wrote about Ziva around the time she was in Somalia. But I suppose it could be viewed as a during or post-traumatic poem. I thought I'd see what you girls think :) It's short and dark, and it's called Fallen.
Her wings are black, her puso is broken,
Whispered thoughts are never spoken,
She dies inside, slowly here,
Every moment wrought with fear.
Forgotten dreams and harsh regrets,
Memories she tries so hard to forget,
And now each single waking hour,
She wilts inside... a dying flower.
I was going through one of my old notebooks and I found a poem that I wrote about Ziva around the time she was in Somalia. But I suppose it could be viewed as a during or post-traumatic poem. I thought I'd see what you girls think :) It's short and dark, and it's called Fallen.
Her wings are black, her puso is broken,
Whispered thoughts are never spoken,
She dies inside, slowly here,
Every moment wrought with fear.
Forgotten dreams and harsh regrets,
Memories she tries so hard to forget,
And now each single waking hour,
She wilts inside... a dying flower.
We've been caught
Ziva walked into the living room and smiled at the sight in front of her. “how long has she been like that” asked chuckling slightly.
"Not sure, I just walked in and found her like this" he explained.
"I’m just finishing up in the kitchen, will you put her to bed?" Ziva asked.
Tony smiled and kissed Ziva on the side of the head. “Sure, see you in a minute” he said.
Tony walked over to Isabel and carefully picked her up. Her head draped over his shoulder and she stirred slightly. As he walked past Ziva, she gave her daughter a light halik on the head and stroked Tony’s arm.
