This is a late post. October got me blown away from my urban setting and sank at my hometown again.

The taste of comfort lasted more than the two weeks I have planned to stay. Have been buoyant.

I have been slacking off for quite some time now, just gazing at whatever. Never really that in a hurry of taking steps towards another, I am just bouncing around. Never stuck. Though there might be slight changes of decisions but what I am worrying is that my personal obligation to carry myself better and then live up to it. Anyway, I have all the expanse of the earth and even the universe to absorb.

I’ve always liked the beach and so much greenery. I grew up practically learning how to differentiate one leaf to another and a plant from a tree.

Though I never learned to climb tree because Mama and Papa was kind of protective of us over that encounters but we were not spared in doing it just as they say experience it and be responsible or else once you get hurt yourself still you’ll going to be cared for and get some pointers about making that cautioned climb again. I managed then. I am managing still.

I am missing the mango tree. It used to stand upright on our front porch with its thick crown cupping our house from too much sun and breathing in cool wind. It died down to give way for the construction of a heat trapping veranda. I dislike it. I miss its mouth watering fruits and the sole branch I have gripped a rope to make a swing out of it.

Swing, swing, swing. I languidly push my feet off the ground. The wind kissing my face, repulsing as I forwarded. Then across my nape, there it was again. I close my eyes and raise my head, opening my lids, leaves fluttering with the wind. My eyes catch the morning light beaming from the tree’s canopy. I miss this. I am buried.



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