Rain

                 It’s been raining non-stop for days now and yesterday was no exception. It was the last day of my shift for the week so I was so eager to get home despite the rain. I was dreaming of hot noodle soup, pancakes and warm bed at home. The trip from Makati to our place took almost 2 hours . I dropped by a supermarket to purchase some items needed for my food craving.

                It was still raining when I got home that afternoon. The moment I stepped down from the tricycle, I saw how our front yard dramatically changed. Not that it was the first time I saw it, (my brother did the changes weeks back for his upcoming business) but it still gives me a frown whenever I see the image of the transformation that he had done.

               The landscape that I used to know was nowhere to be seen.

               The lush green and other colors were no longer there.

               The fence, long gone.

               Our bare house could be seen instantly from the road.


              There was a huge difference of how I pictured it from years ago compared to that day. Anyway, I carried my bags and hurriedly walked a few more steps to get inside our humble abode. The first thing that welcomed me was the empty porch with its swampy, sandy floor. I guessed nobody was there to clean it up. There were also clothes hung everywhere to dry.  I turned the door’s knob leading to the entire house and there were those things that I had expected: big boxes. Two boxes of items from my brother’s store. Boxes filled with used things, old things, items from plastics, cardboards, toys, nails, rugs, clothes, woods… name it, and it’s all there!  We have no furnitures now so those boxes, along with other items on different corners were occupying the space of the house. It’s just a frustrating scene.

                I checked my room. I left it locked last week only to find out that day that it was already unlocked! It. Was. Opened. There was a dripping from the roof of my room (same with the living room). Well, I tried so many times to take care of the roofing problem but sealant just didn’t work. I’ll try to replace the roofs with the new ones I guess.  Since I knew that my roof had a problem, last week, before I leave my room, I made sure that my bed was taken cared of – my mattress positioned vertically so the drops from the roof would not reach it ( I even had bowls to catch the drippings). That day? Well, it was still in its vertical position but it was placed on a different side! To top it all, the lower part of the mattress was wet! No, it was drenched! Did somebody just use my room?? I checked my things. I noticed that my box of nail polish and a pair of scissors were gone. My things were arranged odd. Somebody. Entered. My. Room. And. Used. My. Stuffs. I hate it when someone uses my stuffs.

                I sighed with frustration. There I was so eager to get home to find these things. It was saddening.

                I went to our kitchen. As expected, there was no food. Our small kitchen looked really small and shabby. It was a little dark. There were lids on the table. A box full of plastic forks.  Under our kitchen table were things by my brother’s family. There were hampers full of grubby clothes, woods and plastic bags of which God knows what were inside. Last week, I was so thirsty but I found no glass available to help me drinking. Just imagine a kitchen without a glass! I tried making myself a cup of coffee but there was no cup available nor hot water because we didn’t have gas. That same day I went to SM to buy glasses and took care of the gas problem as well. Almost all the things in our kitchen were taken by my brother at his store. Pots, glasses, cups, ladle, spoons, forks, glasses, bowls, plates, kitchen wares from my old apartment were missing as well. That said store was more of their house now. They do the cooking, sleeping and all in there except bathroom activities.  That was why nobody was home. Dad stays somewhere else as well except at nights where he sleeps in his room.  My eldest brother and his family normally visit this place once in a while but I guessed rainy day was an exclusion. So I was (pardon me for using the word for the nth time) alone. Alone inside our almost-abandoned, filthy, robbed, unkept, old and flawed house. Realizing all of these, I broke down to tears.

                I was really surprised that I did.

                I think I had written before that missing was synonymous to hurting. That’s what I normally feel when I am missing something. Or someone. I realized how I really missed a lot of things in our house. I missed my mom’s blossoming garden. The clean floor. Our decent living room. My untidy room exclusive only to me. Our simple kitchen with simple wares for the family. My mom’s cooking. Above all, I missed the way my family used to gather together on a rainy day like this. Everyone was at home. I used to have my mom around the house whenever I came from school and everybody else was nowhere to be seen. She was always there. Reading a pocketbook, watching a television, sleeping or simply just being there. I missed that feeling that whenever it was, there was always this assurance that she was just there. God I was missing her again.

              Real crying was agonizing. I even heard a sob or two. It was a kind of crying when I tried to let it all out and at the same time tried to pacify myself. There was a strong and solid pinch somewhere inside. I cried more for a few more minutes, still wearing the clothes I was wearing from the previous night’s shift, facing the wall with its detailed cobwebs, trying to shrug the emotions. But really, how could you shrug something like that?

                 I headed to my room. I did a little cleaning to ease my sentiments. Boy I was really pissed about my bedding being drenched in water. I did a little improvising inside my room before I completely hit the sack. My facebook status that night was:

                I was in my 4th grade when I learned the difference between a house and a home… I miss the latter the most….

                The following morning, the rain decided to take its break but it was nonetheless still chilly. I cooked noodle soup and pancakes. My aunt Precy dropped by so I gave her some of what I had prepared. We talked a little then later on told me that tomorrow’s my mom’s death anniversary. I froze. I hope she didn’t notice it.