March 11, 2011
5:30 AM
The sound of my phone’s alarm woke me up.
For a brief moment, I wanted to ignore it. To go back to sleep. But I didn’t. This was a new habit I was building, and I thought it was bad to miss two days in a row. I wasn’t able to do it yesterday because I slept at Kuya Al and Ate Sarah’s place. She was there too.
I wanted to start taking care more of my body. So I have to do this. But I regret not going back to sleep. I should’ve gotten back.
There was nothing unusual with this morning. I stood up and switched the lights on, illuminating the windowless room, which was terribly dark just a second ago. My notebook, the daily devotional, and the Bible all piled together gleamed on top of the Monobloc that I used as a table when I’m sitting on my bed.
I kept the pants that I was already wearing when I slept and just put on my blue sweater. It was one of those sweaters that has a zipper that ran only from the neck to the chest. It has no pockets and it was collared like a polo shirt.
I walked out of the room and closed it. My sister was still sleeping in the other room across the dining table and the vacant space that was supposed to be the living room. Behind the curtains, tiny white and yellow lights flickered. They were from the fields that grew flowers over the hills of Ambiong. They were the only lights outside, aside from the few street lights here and there. The sun won’t show up until about another 30 minutes.
I wasn’t particularly noisy, but I wasn’t careful either. I started putting on my rubber shoes. When I was finished, I opened the wooden door then the steel and screened door behind it. It’s weird, but those two doors separated me from what will be an entirely different life.
An unusual change of air came to me as I started walking the steep road that led to the main road. From afar, the main road was still very silent except one or two jeepneys that were already starting their day. Upon reaching the main road, the path started to go downhill. I walked down the road, crossed the street, then stood in front of the opened gate of the enclosed hill that they call Bayan Park.
I climbed up the hill then started jogging. I was alone. The air was still cold. A few weeks from now, Baguio’s temperature will start going up. But today, the cold that filled all our Decembers was still here. It was so difficult to break a sweat.
Just a few minutes of doing this and I stopped.
I should feel good, but I didn’t.
I started walking slowly.
I can still hear her words. I can still hear my words. I can still feel the pain of realizing how young I was, how vulnerable to the weaknesses of the soul. I wasn’t aware until then that I was absorbed in my own thoughts the entire time I was walking and jogging. I knew I should be sad, and I thought I was sad. What I didn’t know then was that it wasn’t sadness that I was starting to feel.
It was something more.
Something that could last for weeks, months, years.
The only thing I knew then was that it was unusually dark. The sun wasn’t around. It won’t come until about 30 more minutes. And it was cold. Too cold. The beginning of a long, long cold.