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HONORING MY MOTHER | El Niño and the little ones

Finally. The hills are alive with the sound of….rain. Well, if you wish, you could also say ‘music’ because who is to know, that may be what it really sounds like to all our trees and our thirsty patch of earth on this side of the world. From my bed, I’m thinking, finally, El Nino appears to have briefly let up, giving all the greeneries that we hold dear a thorough drenching from the heavens.

The month-long heat wave has indeed left the landscape so dry, that what were once stretches of green along the highway from here to Gensan had already begun sporting coffee dark brown and milky beige camouflage prints, as I have myself witnessed from a speeding bus. Hopefully, the topsoil will have its triumphant jumpstart, so that by the time I am again back on the road tomorrow, I hope to see all that brown changed, with wildflowers of many colors to boot.

I’m likewise wishing that the fruit trees in the farm, after much-needed dousing, might offer to yield a little something for us to bring home so that, by the time we rev the car and head back to Davao, the rear compartment will have been filled and like my tummy, be a bit heavy. Then a bit later, I somehow realized that fruit yields do not happen overnight, even after a rain. True, I may be helplessly hoping but what do I know?

One thing is certain though, because of this downpour (which I again hope is Minda-wide), my son’s going to be complaining come morning when he has to maneuver our tiny car carefully down the soft and muddy path leading out to the highway when it’s time for us to go.

Meanwhile, even as we grownups are thankful for this blessing from the heavens, kids still are a different specie all together. Who can blame them? I could faintly make out the two cute cherubs who live near us as they chant their protest song of the moment, during the middle of this early morning rain:

“rain-rain go away, come again another day…” and that has made me a bit sad. They have been deprived of leaning out the front gate, as they did every day, to bid their parents bye-bye. Yet, that’s just the way it is, babies, not only does it steal our thunder, but life often rains on our parades too.


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