Thursday, July 10, 2008
Cheery Lane
She got off the walk-alator, not knowing what to expect. the airport was a sight to see, but she was too pre-occupied with remembering those she left behind. Homesickness was starting to gnaw at her, like the cold that was wafting through the airconditioning vents. hours before she had said good-bye to her family, and like her other countrymen, she was leaving the country to look for better opportunities abroad. She had a nice, rewarding job and her friends. But the wanderlust and the opportunity to start something new in a different environment was to good to let go. She had thought about leaving for a long time, and there were times when doubt aboutthe future and the place that she is going to would creep in. There were times when herdeparture was delayed by some more important things. Nevertheless, she was here now. She knew that one way or another, she would eventually pack her bags and book that ticket. As she got off the walkalator, she knew that there was no turning back now and that her destiny lay ahead and not behind. She paused and waited for ate, who she got acquainted with just before their boarding time. At least she has someone to talk to during their stopover, she mused. She afforded herself to look back behind her shoulder for one last time, and she was glad she did...
He got on the walk-alator, not expecting anything. It had been na un-eventful flight, save that he was able to find someone who was going the same destination and somehow knew the directions to the gate where they were supposed to board for their connecting flight. This was his first time to fly outside the country and he had put up a cool demeanor so his nerves would not get the best of him. "ate" had been his seatmate and had asked her where his destination was. upon learning that they were both headed for the desert and that this was her nth time to fly, he had asked her for the details of the trip - what to expect and what not to do. So far, so good he thought. His trip was a long time coming. Friends abroad had been inviting him to come over for years now, but he was either too tied up or too happy planting his roots when these invites came. The time is perfect now, he can feel it. So he said good-bye to his family, friends and his job; packed his bag and strapped on his travelling sandals. when his plane ticket came with his departure date stamped into it, he knew that there was not turning back now. His fate was sealed, and he was giddy where it would take him. He woke from his reverie when walk-alator neared it's get-off point. He looked up ahead, and he was glad that he did...
He got on the walk-alator, not expecting anything. It had been na un-eventful flight, save that he was able to find someone who was going the same destination and somehow knew the directions to the gate where they were supposed to board for their connecting flight. This was his first time to fly outside the country and he had put up a cool demeanor so his nerves would not get the best of him. "ate" had been his seatmate and had asked her where his destination was. upon learning that they were both headed for the desert and that this was her nth time to fly, he had asked her for the details of the trip - what to expect and what not to do. So far, so good he thought. His trip was a long time coming. Friends abroad had been inviting him to come over for years now, but he was either too tied up or too happy planting his roots when these invites came. The time is perfect now, he can feel it. So he said good-bye to his family, friends and his job; packed his bag and strapped on his travelling sandals. when his plane ticket came with his departure date stamped into it, he knew that there was not turning back now. His fate was sealed, and he was giddy where it would take him. He woke from his reverie when walk-alator neared it's get-off point. He looked up ahead, and he was glad that he did...
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Kalot
The old wrinkled hands patted the worn purple cloth that was sitting on her lap, a bittersweet smile curled on her lips as she reminisced the memories that was kept within it. After all these years, those memories screams out at her everytime she would come in contact with that old rag. She saved it from burning, she remembered. That time it was too precious for her to be immolated together with all the memories that she was trying to forget. Her head hurts at the thought, as does her chest.Old age can do that to you, she thought. She tried to distract herself by looking out of the window and admire the streetscape below as the train passed by. At one stop she looked longingly at the crowd that was waiting for their ride home, hoping to see a familiar face that she has not seen in many moons now. Decades ago, he would have been there waiting for her. He would be lost in his thoughts while sitting at the stairs leading to the exit, his face would always light up upon recognizing her in the crowd. A lump was forming in her throat as her fingers found the knitted lumps and bumps on the cloth. She had known them like the back of her hands, she had clung to same worn rag when she cried herself to sleep. They were young then, full of dreams and promises and hopes. They had never said goodbye, she remembered. Maybe it is about time. She closed her eyes, and dreamed of the time that he was clasping her hands as they were sitting behind that fallen log so many years ago...
The boy ran to the seashore, hands full of black glittering sand. He squatted where the sands meet the waves, and began scooping out the wet earth. Sweat was dripping on his brow as he surveyed the darkening horizon, he does not have much time. The storm is going to be here soon, he huffed. I have to finish the castle before the tide comes, and with it the deluge. He stood up and ran towards the ever-rising mound that he has been laboring on all morning. This is his last sandcastle, the best that he ever made. It's moats were like cement itself at it coils around the turrets, lovingly whetted out of the sand to pierce the sky. Slowly the boy's sculpture rose from the featureless sand dunes into a form even the sea nymphs would stare at in envy. This was going to be his last work, his totem to her. He was working on the castle's last turret when the beginnings of a shower tore him away from his thoughts (of her). In a few minutes the sky was darkening and the sea that has been calm all morning now shudders as the sky began to vent it's fury. His hands patted the last piece of the sculpture and place, the boy stood up, facing the sky and letting the rain soak his being. Thunder and lightning clashed with the waves of the sea and the mountains of the land. She was calling out her name amidst this deluge, fearful that that which he labored hard on would never fulfill its purpose. He has finished the sandcastle, he had fulfilled his promise. Now it was all up to her to see that sacrifice. She remembered her face now, still clear to his memory after all these years.The storm was at it's peak but the boy is silent now - lost in the memory when he had her hands in his as they were sitting behind that fallen log so many years ago...
They finally said their good-byes. She sat down beside his bedside, the old rag in her hands. The doctors and his family allowed them a little time together. For a long time they just stared at each other, still connected after all these years. They never said a word and yet there was as understanding in all the looks that they exchanged. Finally he closed his eyes and breathed his last, a smile curling on his lips. On the seashore, an old rag with a crescent moon embroidered on it lay half-buried in a mound of glittering, black sand.
The boy ran to the seashore, hands full of black glittering sand. He squatted where the sands meet the waves, and began scooping out the wet earth. Sweat was dripping on his brow as he surveyed the darkening horizon, he does not have much time. The storm is going to be here soon, he huffed. I have to finish the castle before the tide comes, and with it the deluge. He stood up and ran towards the ever-rising mound that he has been laboring on all morning. This is his last sandcastle, the best that he ever made. It's moats were like cement itself at it coils around the turrets, lovingly whetted out of the sand to pierce the sky. Slowly the boy's sculpture rose from the featureless sand dunes into a form even the sea nymphs would stare at in envy. This was going to be his last work, his totem to her. He was working on the castle's last turret when the beginnings of a shower tore him away from his thoughts (of her). In a few minutes the sky was darkening and the sea that has been calm all morning now shudders as the sky began to vent it's fury. His hands patted the last piece of the sculpture and place, the boy stood up, facing the sky and letting the rain soak his being. Thunder and lightning clashed with the waves of the sea and the mountains of the land. She was calling out her name amidst this deluge, fearful that that which he labored hard on would never fulfill its purpose. He has finished the sandcastle, he had fulfilled his promise. Now it was all up to her to see that sacrifice. She remembered her face now, still clear to his memory after all these years.The storm was at it's peak but the boy is silent now - lost in the memory when he had her hands in his as they were sitting behind that fallen log so many years ago...
They finally said their good-byes. She sat down beside his bedside, the old rag in her hands. The doctors and his family allowed them a little time together. For a long time they just stared at each other, still connected after all these years. They never said a word and yet there was as understanding in all the looks that they exchanged. Finally he closed his eyes and breathed his last, a smile curling on his lips. On the seashore, an old rag with a crescent moon embroidered on it lay half-buried in a mound of glittering, black sand.
