Saturday, November 21, 2009

The Hours We Are Most Alive

I wake up from my nap only to find myself still far away from home. The FX, which carried me from Megamall snake its way across V. Mapa. Stepping on the gas must be the driver's secret addiction, for no matter how busy the street is, he races ahead of other cars to beat the red light waiting along Ramon Magsaysay Boulevard.

Looking outside the window, I see grey clouds marching. There must have been a brief shower while I wandered in dreamland, only to find the place empty. Between the heaving clouds are tiny rifts revealing a pastel orange sky. The sun must be doing her final encore, I thought, and the wind, sympathizing with the light worshipers chases the Cumulus and Nimbus away so the sun dance could be seen on the ground before leaving for sunless lands.

The soft hum of the car's engine lulls me back to sleep. The earphones plugged on my ears still play Sarah Mclachlan, Paula Cole and Goo Goo Dolls songs from a generation I belong. A slight accidental nudge, a sudden stepping of the break, the person seated next to me slamming the door as she departs away from the vehicle; a sudden squall making its way inside the crammed space where my body is wedged and finally, I am roused back to life to find myself almost home.

Stepping outside the car, I feel the cold breeze touching my skin. The damp ground, whose scent wafting under my nose induces thoughts of rustling leaves and tiny droplets falling gently to the ground. There is a tree not far from my spot. Its moist evergreen leaves reflect the last of the sun's rays before it too finally fades beyond the horizon. Catching a glimpse of the sky, I find a palette of blue and orange enmeshed to create shades only seen on day breaks.

The wind blows once again as I reach the street corner. The entrance to my house is just but a stone throw away. While kids dash as they try to tag one another; and couples stroll with their hands locked in union; as mothers clutch their infants close to their breasts and men, coming into terms with old age resign to staring at youthful boys walking pass them.

I realize

That in the hours we are most alive, we forget how time quickly passes a day from our lives.

12 comments:

E said...

panalo ka....galeeeennggggg!You captured the moment and I felt it-i could almost smell the the leaves.

Teban said...

wow. talent ito sa pag-describe!

red the mod said...

Exquisitely vivid.

Its during the ungodly hours in the morning, when the rest of the world is in deep slumber, that I find myself most alive. When the deafening silence of the slothful dusk is broken by the wringing of NGC on the telly, or the reverberant thumping of my headphones, or both.

When the life I inhabit, as defined by the people and places and things, all seem oblivious to my very existence. When the only noise I perceive is the steady contemplations of my mind, I feel alive.

And sometimes, during these hours, that's when my muse visits. And the words flow like bucketfuls of emotion distilled into prose.

engel said...

Who were you with?

colorblind said...

introspective.

namis ko na ang ganitong style mo.

winner!

iurico said...

true. And along with it is the realization that you cant turn it back however hard you wish it to. :-(

dabo said...

tulad ka din ng ulan na dumaan kahapon.. kaya mong patigilin ang normal na takbo ng buhay

Darc Diarist said...

Afflictis lentae celeres gaudentibus horae.

To the happy, time flies. To the sad, time creeps.

Maxwell5587 said...

tama, time skips a mile when we're enjoying ourselves.

hugh said...

sana kasing galing kita magsulat...

thecurioscat said...

:)

citybuoy said...

ang galing nung pagka-describe mo. i felt like i was there with you.

and were you listening to the city of angels soundtrack? i'm so in love with it. i used to play it sa walkman ko paulit ulit. hehe