How To Wear A Skirt: An Anthology of Rains I

We are used to the rains. My family, my neighbors, my countrymen. The rains take turns with the sun in governing the world we live in. Some times, it can prove to be a burden. Some days, it is a beloved gift of comfort and seasonal rest.

When I was young, once it pours, all occupations will be halted. (Occupations being going to school and doing the school life). Since my mother also frequents the school, as a teacher, once cancellations happen, we would all be huddled at home seizing the "yey-no classes" day/s.

There was this one morning when my mom, my siblings, and I were all already up when it was announced that classes were cancelled. I was probably in my third grade (what a bad year it was) at the time. My mom told us to go back in bed and thereafter, joined us. A rare sight! For at that age, I never saw my mom being anywhere else in the morning other than the kitchen and the dining areas. But she joined us in bed and playfully tickled us. She also chose to rest. Maybe because she was also tired, but we did not know that of course. What indelible imagery. Maybe because I felt safe then. Safe and happy--an uncommon feeling for me in my becoming days at school. What a glitch the rains could offer.

The rainy season happens in conjunction with the summer days. They alter in that pattern in our side of the world. It begins when my siblings and I were still in Pangasinan back in our childhood days. Days in Pangasinan meant that it was schoolbreak for us. It was a tradition. There was no summer spent otherwise, at least for me, until my early years in college. Once the first rain of the year happens, my cousins and I would find different ways to entertain ourselves while all cooped up inside my bae's (grandmother's) house. Some days, I watched the rain embellish the trees and flowers with those drizzling sparkles. Some days, we all exchange jokes among each other. Most times, we were all just entertained by one box, all of the family glued to the television.

Those afternoons were particularly dark, because the rains were gloomy. We were not allowed to laugh. We did that secretly. We were not allowed to sing. We listened to the thunder instead. We were not allowed to make fun of the raging skies. Because it will get even angrier. My bae taught us to respect its wrath. So, we would just look at each other while being under the shadows of the wall, and keep our laughters to ourselves. Because, for some reason, kids always found something to laugh about and at. Even when the skies were dark.

To my grief, the rains shifted from being equated to pausing when I started gaining more years.

It became an obstacle to be overcome when I have to get to work. Some days, it ceased bearing any meaning to it. It is just another day in this ever repetitive world that demands sacrifices for a life well-lived.

It became a hopeless symbolism when Filipinos' homes started getting flooded. It became a reminder of the relentless and remorseless corruption that hovers over the lives of my countrymen. There are times these days when I call it the litmus paper that dampened the opaque walls and made what happens on the other side visible. The rains showed us of how much we were being cheated and how much we are losing while we are making the sacrifices we were deceived to make.

Tragedy, tragedy, what a comedy.

On some days when I can catch up with life, I spend the days reading while listening to the howling winds, while being embraced by its cold. These days are quite elusive now. But these are days I beseech God for.

Can You give me the quiet rains today?
Those gentle hums that chase my fears away

Can You make it a little bit colder?

That warm embrace in this world that makes me wonder

Can You make the skies look a bit gray?

A sheet of restedness when there's not a lot to say