Read PART 1 of the story here.
We rode a jeepney to my aunt’s old house in the town of San Juan. The night ride was balmy and breezy. My cousins now all-too familiar voices firing endless ‘how-are-yous’ filled the warm ride home, a genial sentiment that made me took in the moment – oh, finally I’m home. I ducked out my head to breathe-in familiar scents of summer. The whiffs this short night ride has, burrowed reminiscences out of my arcane and emotional amygdala. The earthy night mists, the sun-burnt grasses, the scent of Calachuchi and Dama de Noche brought out the remembrance that reconnect me back to the place where I first saw light and cried - my birthplace.
I woke up hearing tender waves smacking the shore. I know its early morning, I just can’t tell what time in the morning. I was searching for my cellphone; I figured it’s a default morning habit of anyone who lives chasing time in the city. But I can’t find it, so I sat up and look around for a clock – it was futile. The cottage where we billeted was devoid of time device. A good circumstance I thought. This would be the time where my stomach would tell me when to eat and not the clock on the wall.
I went out sluggishly.
My husband and my kids were still snoring, obviously tired after a late-night pool swimming. I sat on the rattan hammock mounted on two coconut trees right at the doorstep of our cottage. From a distance, I can see a lone, small blue boat anchored in the shallow part of the sea. Fluffy clouds line above the horizon where the morning sky meets the sea, they’re like small polar bears walking above the water. They’re like telling me – today will be a fine and sundrenched day.
I once read that the cure to anything is saltwater. Indeed, the morning serenity of the sea is more than a cure to clear all life’s worries away – pure, unadulterated, unsullied peaceful promise that a good day is up ahead of me.
The morning tranquil seascape just emptied everything out of my reason. Then it occurred. This ocean is truly like humans, is it? – Always has it flipside. It has this tranquility that heals and an upheaval that wrecks.
We may each time favor the former but there’s nothing to rectify when we never come across shatters that one day would put us on heel to find calm healing from the sea.
Continue reading THE SUMMER I MET A SHORELESS FISHERMAN - Part 3
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