The Last Daybreak

     The roads we've taken were not easy, the struggles difficult and the mountains we've negotiated almost swallowed the last breath of hope in us. There were instances when we were torn to pieces, opting to go separate ways, decisive to reward each other chances for second chances. You could have chosen a comfortable, trend-setting life with dignified, highly respectable women who had pledged your happiness over their own. I  could had also chosen to grow old with the man who once captured my fantasies- himself building not only pedestals but kingdoms with my name as his final statement and purpose- inspiring, driving him to unpredictable heights of excellence.

     Yet, in our own free will, we hold on. We both chose to journey together, throughout the rough roads and the steepest climbs, making no promises,  recitals and confessions of love undying, as crooks often do, for we deemed those unnecessary, against the way our bodies meet and melt- in the stillness and quiet inherent in both dawn and dusk. Our envious detractors could only watch us in utter awe, unbelieving of their own failure to define and experience the ultimate joy of existence possible only to thinking HomoSapiens. You were too handsome for me, I was too smart for you, they claimed. But what can you expect to hear from the dumb, the fool and the ignorant?

     Then you committed this act. You confessed that you get yourself screwed up in a realm of greed and guilt possible only to men  and women devoid of self-esteem and self-respect.  You swayed in utmost ecstasy and danced with the silver clouds, unmindful of the mutilation of your body by a married woman, a grandmother at that, whose parameters of wisdom are the number of orgasms she attained with several equally married men, a woman whose cerebral inclinations are concentrated on the areas between her legs.  But she is your choice and your choices are not mine. You certainly deserve each other. I am, therefore, giving you every opportunity to pursue your choice because only the fulfillment of your choices and your full knowledge of such  choices will give meaning, dignity and definition of your being and existence. In your stolen moments, you were in the belief that your lover's bedroom acrobatics, which, admittedly, I fall short of, was holier than the entry of the Son of Man into the gates of Heaven. You worshiped the way she moved her lips along with the way she distorted truths to lies and joys to pain.. You allowed yourself to be captured under a marvelous spell ready to murder your wife and children on any hint of their interference. I certainly cannot fault you when you were on such a state, because you said, you were only human, unwittingly overwhelmed by the extravagance of a pleasure made real by an exceptional talent consistently developed since the woman's highschool days.

     As your wife, I admit and take full responsibility of my faults and failures, except one of the nature that could disgrace your honor as a man and husband. Perhaps, I was nowhere when you were in that crossroad. I will certainly not oblige you to proclaim forgiveness on my shortcomings. We don't owe each other stuffs like that, except the courage- this I earnestly pray- to admit that our union is not meant to last. Despite this tremendous pain, I will always remember you with kindness if you can allow me the space to redeem what is left of my dignity and self-worth. With your last shreds of honesty, I wish to see the world on a new perspective , let my heart and soul wander in  places undisturbed by the pain of betrayal and distrust- places where I can gift myself again the brilliance of a handshake from men and women who can define happiness less the stinking odor of lust, hypocrisy and lies...

     For the sake of the many wonderful things we shared, for our children whom you love with your life, I urge you to be the man  I met 30 years ago---a man unburdened by the sentiments of the world,  a man answerable to no one but his firm hold of his convictions, a man ready to draw blood for any harm caused  his dignity and honor.......only then can we hope for, at least , one more daybreak for the both of us.

A love that was...yet still is....

At 5:15 in the morning, after 36 hours of a smooth sea voyage, the colossal ship from Manila finally touched the stoned wall of the half-sleepy Dumaguete pier. Minutes later, passengers poured out from the tiny openings of the boat's belly. I witnessed the excitement painted in the faces of my fellow passengers as they waved their hands towards their parties waiting down the dock. But a number of them also betrayed varied expressions of apprehension and hesitation for reasons they themselves knew. I could not exactly define how I felt.

I refused to join the hurried crowd disembarking from the ship. It was not that I was poor in maneuvering myself through crowds. Rather, some ghosts seemed to hold me- telling me to while away my time, perhaps, to gather all my strength against my encounter of what was once all beautiful  and all mine but are nowhere now. .I gave in to my silent thoughts and walked to the open deck to survey the landscape that I once knew so well. Except for the Jollibee stand, nothing in the place underwent major changes. This was still  one of the many faces of the island which nurtured my sensibilities. The cold early morning air of summer swept my face and soon enough I was drunk with that insurmountable feeling of nostalgia. I stood naked before the peace and tranquility of the city called Dumaguete.

The boat was cleared with its passengers in less than thirty minutes. Slowly, I heeded for the exit. In light steps , I walked , not to the bus stations but towards the acacia-lined Silliman University Avenue. Luckily, I got an intimate conversation with the brown grass underneath my footsteps as I was in a place and time frequented by solitary  souls.

Soon, I was in a wooden bench laid under a canopy of giant acacia leaves. In an instant, memories came flashing by. It was here where we echoed some love songs against the murmurs of the surrounding foliage. How my voice drifted then as the notes freed the sentiments of my soul. These were the same trees and space which shared the secrets of my youth and provided me comfort  when I I felt things were not going easy. I gazed through the twigs and leaves, now brown and gold in compliance with summer, hoping to recapture the kind of communion I had with them then. But no matter my efforts, I didn't feel it now- the soft rustling of the leaves failed to enthrall me the way they did when Dante and I were one.

Ours was a love designed to become the envy of the nymphets, so I thought. It was innocently pure, born in time when June delivered its first rains, but sadly, weaker than the weakest form of bondage created by young dreamers. I died the day Dante wedded Julia.

"You are not going anywhere", Dante had said when I told him I had to work in Manila after graduation.
"I am".
"What for? With or without you working, I can build the family we dream of putting up together."
"I know. But I just want to explore places and put into practice all the theories I learned in college"
"Oh, well, then, go ahead". It was as if I heard him choked with his last words.

By mid- July of the same year after my March graduation,  I was already comfortably employed in a prestigious law firm in Manila as a researcher. Dante, who chose to be an agriculturist, tended their family's few hectares of rice and sugarcane farms. His letters for me reflected his great love for farming, though, there were times when his tone hinted of something I neglected to give time to consider. I got embroiled in my job as I got successive promotions. Eventually, our letters became scarce and in a matter of time, Dante and I were no longer humming the same tune. He complained that I ceased to be the girl who can be easily contented with the simple pleasures of life. I let him go, for he has already  chosen Julia, a school teacher from the next barangay to take my place.

My wounded ego refused to acknowledge the pain I felt with the separation. I went to places, enrolled myself in graduate courses, My spirit did soar and reached some heights only to trip back empty -handed. Emptiness.....there was no way for me to escape. The cool whisper of the midnight air still brought Dante's breath next to mine.

I boarded the taxi and was home in Tanjay in less than two hours. My mother broke into tears on seeing me. My own eyes went misty. For seven years, I deprived her the pleasure of this hometown reunion simply because I refused to let go of a love that was already an impossibility.

I was on my third day of  my two-week vacation when I decided to come in contact with things familiar with my childhood. It was close to sunset and the sun was low in the western sky. There were orange clouds draped against the huge canvass of pale blue. The scenery was awesome, made doubly enticing by the stillness of the countryside.Not a leaf moved as I passed by the shrubs and trees surrounding the pathway I was trekking. I sat on the protruding roots of a mango tree as my eyes feasted on the panoramic extravagance laid before me. How generous nature can become. Despite the long absence of rain, there were still plentiful of lush vegetation scattered around the expanse of the surrounding farmlands. In the marshes were a few heads of carabaos, themselves eager to bade the day goodbye. Then, I noticed the gentle sway of the mango leaves above me,bringing along a numbing coldness that seemed to pierce through my skin.....for in this same place, ten years ago...I looked up the skies, bright-eyed, hand -in-hand with Dante, I counted the stars.

I got to go home , but  a calloused hand seized my wrist in a hurting grip. I turned around to face my intruder but his gaze, both demanding and imploring, melted all my resistance.Dante had aged, but the expression in his eyes told me that I had not lost him after all. I had wanted to tell him so many things but not a word came out from my  mouth. And neither from him. Then we both understood.

It was in silence that we best understood each other. It was in silence where we both listened to the million stories untold between us in the days and nights that we felt each other's presence, no matter the distance between us. We dwelt on the wisdom of the sages  that only in silence can lovers find the eloquence to argue their rightful claim to what was once and forever theirs. In silence, we were freed from all out fears and pretensions.And finally and as gently he released his grip on my wrist.

I seemed to be drifting in the wind on my way home. In float with the fireflies in the air amidst the diamonds sparkling in the sky. I heard my nephew strumming his guitar as  I climbed up the wooden stairs of my ancestral home.The guitar articulate the passion and adoration of a barrio lad towards the object of his affection but to me , it was a confirmation of a a love that was....and yet still is.

"Broiled tahong for dinner?" I enthused as mother mounted the shells on the grilling pan.
"Your favorite. Your cousin Tacio brought the stuff when he knew you are here."
"Thanks Mama"
"For the tahong"
" Yes, and..................."

Soar, discover and live........

Get thrilled in conquering situations where ordinary mortals dare not and experience the tranquility of space undisturbed by the ignorant  and the coward.

We are all held hostage in a world  where all forms of pain and corruption reign, where the only escape is the journey to your own discovery that life may not be lived in its utter ugliness. But not all are worthy of this journey as only a few are gifted with the courage to admit that they are who they are and therefore, capable of enjoying life by knowing the exact values of their being themselves.