Mid-May.
The late-lazy-afternoon setting was perfect for a stroll or whatever (I imagined Zhang Yimou or Robert Zemeckis grinning for yet another breathtaking film finale).
Two kids playing distracted my already restrained contemplation. One of them was sitting on a wooden swing while the other was pushing it. They went on and on, taking turns in what it seemed like the ride of their lives. Kids.
I was ready to veer my engrossment to another scenery when their game was cut short. It looked like one of them had given the other a harder push. The boy on the swing grappled in reaching for the rope and keeping hold of the wood. The girl, on the other hand, frantically chased the rope, which by then had been swaying away from her as if feeling the sky. Panic reflected on her eyes but, just like before, she managed to give him an assuring look that everything would be fine. At length, everything simmered down. The two continued playing as if nothing had happened.
I caught myself wondering-- no, wanting. Wanting for us to be just like them.
And how I wished I could be like her--
so that I could still push your swing
no matter what
until you touch the stars.
*****
senti mode na naman, hehe. pero seryoso,
when the wall breaks down,
it's hard to find something to hold on to.
yun lang.
