After the storm
Posted by: Fats in: Wika at Hirap > What and Why
It has taken months and months for my marigold plant to bloom, and finally, in the midst of typhoon Milenyo (photo above). There are four small plants in the pot, survivors of months of the simple fact of existing, and two of the plants are showing tiny buds as well. After so much suffering my marigolds are blooming, but what a tiny, crooked, distorted flower … to me a peculiar beauty, a likeness of suffering.
Cleaning up after the typhoon included a radical change in the garden. All my pots have been take away from their places and put elsewhere, some of them thrown away. Giving up, even if it was for one’s own good, is always difficult. There are numerous things that I give up each day in my life recently and it is difficult but necessary.
There was no electricity on the day the typhoon came, and we are fortunate to have electricity now as many other parts of Luzon are still in total black-out. Of course, there was no internet connection for two days. It was quite nice having no electricity, no power and big lights but only small candles. We had dinner as early as 6PM, played with Alwin and was off to bed by 7PM. This reminds me of when I was small and there were power black-outs. There was no television, no electricity, so we all got together to talk, to sing, to make jokes or tell scary stories. In the villages children play at night when there is a full moon and so everything was “bright.”
I took one of the sculptures into my room to begin/continue working on it. So now there is a baby lying on the table. Alwin keeps asking when and how it would come to life. So persistent until I realized that he was jealous. He told me, “Tita ninang, you are making a baby because you don’t have a husband and so you don’t have a baby. I will be Jimenez Lasay and this one can go upstairs.” Alwin and I had breakfast earlier yesterday, and just when I was half-convinced that he was completely helpless and spoiled by his mother and grandmother, he took his plate and spoon, washed them, sat beside me at the dining table and got his own food and fed himself. And we talked and talked about food, plants, and other things. Eating has always been a tortuous task for Alwin with his mother or his grandmother or anyone in the family, but now I am sure that Alwin knows what and why he is doing these things. I have always thought he is more intelligent and responsible than what my ex-partner had nearly convinced me that he was not.
Alwin remembers everything and stores them in his memory in detail and in association with things in incredulous ways, and expresses them in wonderful ways when he so wishes. My ex-partner told me that Alwin avoided things that were difficult, that he did not answer questions and ignored them. I realize now that it is not Alwin but rather my ex-partner who never knew how to ask the questions or even to see without asking or imposing himself. Many months ago I was out in the garden with my ex-partner and I was crying, Alwin came up to me and he saw me crying. Alwin seemed to “ignore” what he saw and he just continued to talk to me, asking questions, a child’s questions. I told him that I miss him so much. It was true, Alwin made me see: even though Alwin was with me, I have lost him when I was with my ex-partner. I lost my capacity to see.
But not permanently. It was only for something like 15 months, perhaps. Now I cry having missed many things that I love, but these are tears of joy because I have regained these things - by giving up on a hopeless hope for love in a relationship that sees only itself. It is so unfortunate that the relationship, my ex-partner, had such a vacuous effect on me, it is unfortunate but true and it is painful to accept that at some point, but such acceptance returns many blessings.
My faith in everyday things, in my everyday God, these have returned too.
How I miss suddenly opening my eyes while resting in bed because of a tremendous feeling of gratitude for the day that has passed. I still get shaken up in the middle of the night by fear or by uncontrollable sobbing but now it is by thanksgiving too. Not only do I know that the birds are singing but their songs swell in my heart and keep me awake. How I miss such things happening to me!
It is now 8:15AM and Alwin is downstairs now. I was preparing some noodles when he came up behind me a squeezed my bum! It is a new habit of his. 
He was calling Edward nutmeg (nootmeg) because my sister placed some nutmeg ointment on his nose. Alwin couldn’t get near Edward, though, because his dad is here! 
