Quietly Yours

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I thought the rain wouldn't stop that day.

Without any sign, it started pouring hard as I was making my way home from the market with a bayong heavy with some oranges and in-season flowers. Fortunately, I passed a shed and immediately ran to it. As I looked down at the half-wilted flowers, I sighed, my clothes soaked and my hair dripping.

"Ngayon ko pa talaga naiwan yung payong..."  I thought.

It's funny that the roof of the shed had holes, so I tried to stand in a spot where the water wouldn't leak through. There is something about how the earth smells when the first rain of the month arrives that makes it more alive. Or how, for the same reason, the leaves of trees appear much greener, and how the noise of outside is drowned out by its steady murmur.

I enjoy rainy days. I enjoy staying inside, wrapped in my favorite blanket and holding a cup of warm hot chocolate, safe from all my worries.  I could get lost in that feeling. But right now I hate the way my soaked flats feel.

My thoughts came to a halt when I heard two high school girls in their school uniforms running after each other, laughing. They were using their backpacks as makeshift umbrellas. I smiled at the sight of them. Or maybe I smiled because I remembered our last summer.

—

The weather was perfect — there was a light breeze and the sun was peaking through the trees. We decided to take a walk to tour around the less busy parts of town. We found ourselves in the quiet of the countryside.

"But you look like spring!" youd said with a beaming smile that crinkled the corners of your eyes.

"Ha?"

"Sabi ko, you look like spring! Kaya sige na let me take your portraits. Promise just a few shots lang."

It was such a genuine compliment that took me off guard. How endearing it is to be seen in the same way you experience seasons. I wasn't sure if it was the gentleness in your voice or the way you held the camera or your coy smile or the combination of those that made me obliged even if I'm not fond of getting my pictures taken. We'd known each other for four days by that point; four days since our paths crossed. And it's still a mystery to me how easy I felt in your company.

I silently watched you load the camera with fresh film from her bag. Its fascinating how smoothly your work your hands around it. As you were inserting the film I asked about the process of developing pictures and though I don't understand half of what you were saying, I listened with such intent. How do you make everything you talk about so interesting?...so effortless?

"How long have you been doing photography?"

You paused from fixing the camera and looked up trying to remember, "Hmm...gosh let me see! Professionally, I think almost 23 years na rin. I wanted something that would keep me moving places."

"And that brought you here..."

"Surprisingly, yes! I like what I do. I like meeting people through it."

"Ikaw? Kelan ka nag-retire from writing if I may ask?"

"Oh. 5 years ago lang. Since then I moved here sa province. I worked in a publishing house for years and then--"

"Wait! 'Wag kang gagalaw! Just hold tha...t....there.." The shutter clicked.

"Ano ba 'yan! Nagulat pa ' ko." Flushed and laughing I tried to cover my face with my palms.

"I just had to. Ang perfect nung lighting eh. Yes, sorry go on with what you were telling me."

"...and then ayun I never looked back since I moved away from the city."

"Do you like it here?"

"Sobra. This is home for me and I could hear my thoughts here..."

We continued walking along the path through overgrown grass. We would often stop when she took pictures of the scenery, wildflowers, or a specific leaf or plant. When I wasn't looking, she took another photo behind my back. I simply smiled and pretended not to notice. That's when the rain started to patter.

"Huwag mong sabihing pareho tayong walang dalang payong."

"Wala! Naiwan ko sa bahay." I said in my attempt to yell because the rain was getting heavier and louder.

We laughed and run we did, like kids looking for shelter, hands over our heads. She smiled at me in comfortable silence when we reached an awning of a storefront. I think we stood there for quite some time, huddled in a small space, admiring as we waited for the rain to stop. And if I try hard enough to remember, I could again feel how the world stopped for a moment.

True enough, it rained all day.

—

When the downpour eased into a gentle drizzle, I started to walk home with my damp basket and a hum in my chest. Memories are notes and keepsakes we pocket from a time dear to us.

I still like to think that somehow, somewhere, there is another version of life where we both get to have more than what was almost ours. Maybe I don't have yet the heart to accept what we have not become. But if tomorrow, summer comes at my doorstep dressed in thunderstorm, I'll welcome it with a silent prayer: I'm glad you came. Please stay for a while.

***

very short entry and diff from the usual lnrs aus. i was listening to "sweet nothing" writing this hehe. hope you understand i'm a very slow writer.