Where the Bird Perches

It didn't matter then what kind of bird it was. As long as it perched on a tree at the far end of our lawn, it was my bird. It would be a very long time again before I began to have the desire to catch it with my bare hands. At the moment I was content on watching it perched on the same tree every afternoon, when the men from the rice fields passed by the narrow strip of land beside ours to go home after the days hard labor.

The men would call to my father who was then lost in walking form tree to tree to check yields. If I were not his daughter I would think that he was trying to count the flowers of the trees, full of anticipation for the harvest to come. Papang would spray them more frequent than they needed. Every afternoon he would not forget to fumigate them to make them fruit quicker. The thick smoke would trap the light making dark patches of shadows in some places.

At twilight the trees would be heavy with sparrows. They would all participate in a cacophony. Some would have pitchy songs. Some would have raspy squawking. Altogether they would play a raucous and discordant symphony. It drowned all other nocturnal sounds that if crickets sang those nights, they were singing in jealousy. When I'd hear it, a shiver would run up my spine down to my limbs and my face would feel thick. But the tree on the farthest end stood alone, leaning and struggling to survive, leafless yet standing. On its highest bough a solitary bird was perched. It continued to be that way for a very long time.

In school I'd count with every tick of the clock and I'd grow more excited as the time to go home drew nearer. I would race with my younger brother home and beat him by a long shot. By the time we came home it was almost twilight. We would wind through father's grove and burst out to the clearing facing the fields. I would wait for the bird to perch, sit there and just watch as the air grew thick from the smoke made by father.

One night I came home and found my brother Fredo who was studying in the city. Upon seeing my brother, I flung my bag away and dashed my way to him. I threw myself to Fredo but he caught me without the usual precision. He teetered on one side and missed catching my left arm so that I almost flew past him. "How are you little one? You seem to be in quite a flight today, huh?" He said.

"I am in a flight. I always was. I miss you so much, manong. We have missed you so much. And all the boys in the farm missed you too," I said, gasping for air.

"Slow down," says Manong while putting me down. "You don't want to be spoiling the night because of your asthma, do you?"

"Oh that won't happen. I'm really strong now," I rolled up my sleeve and flexed my bicep, "You see?" Fredo stifled a laugh and dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Oh come on. Look at me. I'm even stronger than you now. You almost were not able to catch me. I almost fell."

"That's because you've grown, ading." He put his palm in my head and slid his hand to his chest. "You see? You've grown. When I left for San Pablo," he lowered his hand by a few inches, "You were just this small."

"So have I really grown?" I cried, straightened my body, and stood on my toes. "I think I really did."

"Now don't be too proud, Veron. The witches might here you and shrink you the next time you know."

"That won't happen, Manong. That is very impossible." I said smugly and raised my chip. "Ma'am Rita said witches don't have the power to harm me. Science can prove it."

"You don't get smart over me, ading." He teased, ruffling my hair. "You still have a long way to go."

"And when that time I grow up and I'm as tall and as smart as you, I'd also go to San Pablo and study."