The rain may fall, but not me.The floods may crash, but not my dreams.
I’ll just keep on surging like the storm.
It was late afternoon when I opened the blinds—the sky was dark, the mood was gloomy.
My eyes are tired, my body is exhausted from a whole day of work, but I still need my remaining energy because the day is still not over. As I press at the keyboard and type the last letter of my report, excitement lingers, eager to reach home too soon. I already imagine myself laying down in bed, resting in silence, hugging my soft pillow, and appreciating the beauty of being at ease.
I clocked out, but as I reached the gleaming glass door with an EXIT sign, the rain poured out heavily. So heavy that it made the streets flow like rivers. I tried to twiddle my thumbs, and had a second thought of not proceeding, but I was impatient. So, I reached my bag, unfurled my umbrella, and headed to the terminal.
I saw a long line ahead of me, it took an hour before I secured a seat in the jeepney. The vehicle is reeking of weariness, faces covered with desolate emotions, clothes drenched in water. As the wheels rolled, we reached the highway. Suddenly, we were halted because of the traffic caused by the flood due to the heavy downpour.
I waited, and contemplated, hoping that the winds whisper the truth, and the waters ripple reality to the superior. Dreaming that even the benign experience fair service from the authority, trusting that the budget of the community is utilized properly.
It was already dark when I arrived at the front door of our humble home. I saw my siblings having dinner with their feet covered in flood water. My father is hustling, holding a makeshift dustpan made up of a used ketchup bottle, ditching the water out of our house. My mother is baffled, seeking containers to put under our dripping roof.
I made my entrance; I was greeted by my family with a bittersweet smile. I sat and rested for a while. As I watched our ceiling cry, I recalled the people who shed tears and break sweat to make their lives better.
Disregarding my resting plans earlier, I stood and took a bucket, not to take a shower, but to help my father drain the floodwater.
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