Glenda came in and disrupted the Philippines. She ravaged us with shrieking winds and pelted us with fat droplets, flooding the streets. She tore trees, lamp posts and left us in total darkness. Most areas anyways… but it also did something beautiful:
People here and there started talking to each other. We put down our phones and toys as their batteries dwindled out to oblivion. Candles lit tables as everyone gathered to sit down and be human again. We reached out and communicated in the most original way to convey thoughts: the personal approach.
At first, it reminded me of how people were while watching the Walking Dead. We had no phones, no electricity and no internet. The only difference is that there were no zombies to hold us in fear.
I held my harmonica to my mouth and blew a low C. Dust was evident from the prolonged times of unuse. The guitar, now warped from different changes of temperature, was no longer playable. My cousin laughed at how nostalgic it sounded. Like some western on the brink of a sunset. We laughed at the dining table.
We talked about plans and dreams and all other things. The whole afternoon was filled with laughter and energetic voices… as if something went alive so suddenly. I was looking at their faces. It felt like i hadn’t seen those faces or that timbre of their voices in quite a while.
For 8 hours, we were humans. Devoid of any social media. No games. No electronic devices. For a glimpse, we were ourselves… what we ought to be. Things became clearer as ideas bounced back and forth.
Although the ordeal was a hassle, it awoke something that fell asleep when we all went online. That side of us which wants to reach out and communicate. To share. To experience.
I actually look forward to this forced event. No storms or anything… but i want to look forward to the next time we would all just sit down and talk for awhile.
Thank you, Glenda.