Last Friday: It’s hot, there’s no wind, and the air smells like the sea. I wish it were summer now. When I was a kid I used to spend my summers with my cousins in Pampanga or in Las Pinas. Wake up late, watch some TV, go out, play piko and patintero, pick santan flowers and carefully draw its tiny stem to suck a little drop of what we assumed was its nectar; go to the empty lots where the grass was as tall as we were, chase each other while we threw a few prickly blades of grass at each others’ shirts. Their little spiny things always a hassle to pick out from our shirts afterward, especially when the sun was already setting and we had to go back inside the house. Take a bath, eat dinner and lie beside each other in bed, talking about things I don’t remember anymore. You wish those days would never end.
The past few weeks have revolved around work and seeing a doctor. You wonder how you reach this point where you’re just tired all the time. Too tired to get up, to write that piece for work that you’ve been putting off, to even write something a little useful in this blog. Some food encounter, about not cooking, something about the upcoming Angkor Wat race, something about not traveling, about suddenly wanting to stay put. Slowing down. My body seems to be doing it for me now.
Monday: Still sick. Stumbling upon this photo of My Neighbor Totoro though made me feel a bit good. The weather is also starting to get cooler. Thankful for the little things.