Rain in Summer

Summer, over 40 Degrees Celsius today. It was so hot you'd sweat even while doing nothing. Had some friends visit me at home. All the usual talk, another normal day. We were about to go after having some snack when suddenly, the sky went dark. Probably a bit of rain's coming down? Until it poured, and it was like a typhoon, blowing its cold hard rain upon the earth that was burning hot just a while ago. Water's everywhere, I had to secure some items that are in the way of the shower. After having them placed somewhere safe, I was wet. Then this idea occurred to me.


When was the last time you walked in the rain? I can't remember mine. Used to do it when I was a kid. It's fun isn't it? Playing in the rain, jumping in puddles. All while wearing your clothes that are soakingly heavy with rain water. Your parents would disapprove. It'll definitely make you sick. But in my little brain when I was a child, hell I'm thinking no. I used to shower in the bathroom and I didn't get ill, did I? So what's the difference? Technically, none. Oh, isn't this stuff only for the young? I am an adult now so act like one.


It was all hot and boring being grown-up so I threw all the thoughts away and jumped out into the rain. Oh what relief I had when I was finally out there feeling cold and wet and laughing that finally I did it, again. It was worth it. All my steam washed away. All my worries freed. It was good to be down there under the pouring water thinking you're a child again. Being young is in our own hearts indeed. It's only a matter of what you choose to be.


In a world that's spinning out of control that all you can think of is survival. A world that's cruel in every single way, full of problems and dillemas. Thank you rain for reminding me that all I need is a little bit of childhood to taste how GOOD life can be.

A Love Story

I've heard of true love stories. I know just this one.


Love stories can be extraordinary, portrayed with lights and colors and all, gifts and surprises and material things. Movies can be deceiving. This love story is simple, ordinary, it did not end the way I wanted it. Who the hell said love stories end up happily? Love was enough. It was just right.


There's this man, who grew up in the city, a kid who knew poverty and faced it head on. He wasn't a good guy.


Then there's this woman, who grew up in the province, a girl who worked her way to have a meal, she was a good woman.


They met sometime in the '80s, even attended EDSA people power. What a date, I say. Don't know much about the courting process. They got married, a civil wedding attended by a few good friends and relatives.


They built a family, they started from scratch. The man did construction works for extra, while being a full time pedicab driver. The year's 1988, their first son was born, premature but made it through. The man then got a job with the help of his brother, an assembler in a car manufacturer nearby. They got their second son in 1989, pretty fast eh? Through hard work, the man got regularized and his job was more than enough to keep his growing family steady. In 1991 the third son was born, then in 1993, their first daughter. Lastly in 1994, their youngest son.


They went through every thing normal parents experience with their kids. It wasn't always easy or happy, but that's the way married life is.


In the end, someone has to leave. Only in true life will you ever see a love end, physically, not mentally. Because love stays in the heart and soul. It still hurts anyway, you'll wish you never have to place your feet upon these things.


February 2005 the good woman got an illness, unknown. She went through lots of tests. In the end she died, of cancer. The man never left her bed. Although he wasn't good in expressing what he feels, even if he says things that are contrary to what's inside his heart, you'll see in his actions that he love her with all his life.


In her last minutes she suffered from a massive cardiac arrest, add to that the loss of oxygen in her brain, she was in a state of stroke. She can't speak. She was heavily breathing, she lost her control on human excretion. What she had inside her for weeks, things that can't get out due to the malignant cancer, all poured out at once. And he simply cleaned everything, oblivious to the fact that it was waste he has in his bare hands. She had to be cleansed, that's what's in his mind. He never complained, he was just there, silently working. Praying for her to be spared. Crying inside his mind. He never left her. After a few minutes, from labored to silent breathing, she passed on. His love along with it. But her memory stays in his heart.


One of the last few words the man heard from the woman those days were, "You're always enough.."


He never left her side, he was with her in the last few moments before she's dressed and groomed. I can remember him talking about this in a brave manner, talking in details. I'm sure he was crying all the time, when all this was happening. I don't ever want to stand in his shoe, and I don't know how I could manage to, if ever I'm placed there.

I remember him crying once. He was outside, coming in the backdoor, eyes swollen and almost speechless. What he told me before breaking into tears broke my heart, "I miss your mom.."


I broke into my own set of tears afterwards. And yes, they were my parents.

LAKAD! (WALK!)

                It’s been over a year since I got myself involved in an accident. The accident’s common, in fact, one might be involved in it right now. Motorcycle accident, yes it is common. Philippines’ flocked with this high-flying, open muffler, insanely set-up scooters. With traffic jams that match those of clocks that already ran out of battery, a motorcycle is a solution indeed. I’m one of the people who thought motorcycle was a good idea despite all the recent accidents I have heard and seen. You have to get first hand experience on things sometime to learn a lesson.

                Everyone knows that there are two main lanes on a typical road, the one where you travel and one for the vehicles going the other way. That night, twelfth of September, year 2011, around 6 in the evening, I’m running on the lane that was not busy at the time, the opposing lane, going straight to the town is experiencing heavy traffic. The next vehicle I can see in front of me on the same lane might more or less be 500 meters away, so I drive half dead.
  

                 Slight rainfall caused enough sleek on roads, though I’m sure that wasn’t on my mind then, I’m running on 20 – 25 km/h, and my brain wandered on lots of other things. To be honest, I’m not even sure if I had my eyes on the road when the accident occurred. I have vague pictures of what happened, a vehicle suddenly appeared in front of me after I woke up from my daydream, I remember pressing hard on both breaks, felt the rubber tire on my rear wheel skid and slide sideways to my left, losing control after trying so hard to evade the incoming vehicle, a head on collision, a loud crash and myself getting thrown forward about 4 meters from where we collided. Then I stood, like nothing happened, and I felt nothing. Adrenaline they say would numb your senses, and it did. I could’ve died and I felt nothing. I walked and looked at the damaged motorcycle, it was bad, but I had other things in mind, first day of work tomorrow, and the thought of what would happen next. I walked 4 meters without noticing I have blood gushing from my chin, that I have multiple scratches on both my ankles, that I’m bruised everywhere and that my left foot’s bones are visible from a big open wound. I did not even notice I wasn’t wearing both my slippers. I walked and tried to talk to the man who was driving the other vehicle, lots of things transpired, I cursed a lot; I cursed him, and talked even more. Reality dawned, my body coped with what happened, and pain started crawling in, my tummy hurts like somebody just gave me a kick in the gut. My vision’s blacking out. I was brought to the hospital. Got my wound stitched. Well it was all too much to tell.

                I survived. End of story? No, the hardest part is yet to come. I caused more pain than all my wounds have brought me. It was a big mess and I had lots of family and non-family involved. It could’ve been easier if I only had the wounds to worry me. I stayed silent, because I can do nothing. What would be the best action? I laughed over the event and pretended I was well, I’m not, and inside, I know, all I am was a disappointment. Instinct overcame morale; I pitied myself, which is the stupidest, yes, STUPIDEST thing to do at the time.

      Trying to regain myself, come Monday, a week after the accident, I reported for work. First question was, if I can attend the training on such a condition, I answered: YES, though I’m not really sure. I am having troubles walking properly, people look when they see you walk limply, making very little progress, you walk past them and they’re still looking. They pretend not to look when you meet their eyes, which I find amusing. I walk, I have other things in mind, and these people are the least of my concerns.

        Struggling for over three more weeks, it took me some time to walk from one place to another. Alone, I can think while walking, I remember doing the same when I was riding the motorcycle the night the accident occurred. The only difference is that I wasn’t moving fast this time, and I’m taking each step with care and ease. If only I had given my thoughts enough time, the results could have been different. I thought of Buddha who found enlightenment through meditating and sitting under the tree, I could do mine while walking. I have to probably walk millions of miles and hope that I find enlightenment someday. Think of life as if walking on wires, impossible, yet still true.

       Those days were the only times in my life I have had any difficulties in walking. I can walk as long as I can remember; wounds on knees did not stop me from running when I was a kid. I run fast, and maybe I have done the same in my life that I move on to the next pace without hesitation, without thinking. I was a little bit too fast that I had to be slowed.