Flowers won’t be as colorful in Spring.
Daffodils and Tulips would lose its color and Sunflowers makes me sneeze.
Cocoons would take time to morph and butterflies losses its ability to fly.
Grasses will have stunted growth and will never be greener even on the other side of the fence.
Summer won’t be as sun shiny and bright.
And I would no longer appreciate the ocean’s swell.
The sands won’t be as powdery on my palms when I hold them.
Instead, they would turn out to be rough grains under my soles.
The salty aroma that sea breeze always bring me would smell rusty and tangy.
Balmy summer nights would be living hell.
Stepping into those dry falling leaves won’t sound as delightfully crunchy as they used to be when Autumn comes.
The pot of coffee would grow cold.
Mugs remain untouched.
Fall has always been my favorite season. The rebirth. The second spring.
To me, it represents the leaves last psychedelic dance before they all plummet into the iciness of winter’s wrath.
Clearly, I wasn’t aware it would be our last waltz as well.
And yes, winter.
Winter would make my bones shiver from coldness.
Bleak. Barren. Dead.
Everything I see hibernates.
Even cold-blooded mammal lie dormant.
Temperature drops. Heartbeat is deliberate.
It will be the coldest winter solstice in the history of my adult life.
And not even the hot glowing embers could melt my frost away.
This is what happens when you’re gone.
It took me nearly a year to get here. It wasn’t so hard to cross that street after all, it all depends on who’s waiting for you on the other side.
The early fall wind bellowed inside the entire room and it feels welcoming with a cup of joe. The very same Malaysian coffee that you introduced me from winter last year.
You bought me a whole bagful and I could never quite comprehend what came into that grey matter on why you offered to buy me one. It was so out-of-the-blue. And when I asked you why, I was amused and bemused by your reply which was: “I’m just being a nice guy”. Ha! I’m not used to you being nice to me. At the back of my mind, I guess I will never get used to it. You have always been a douche bag to me. The rarest (loving) kind.
Despite that, I know you have a good-heart. It may not sound like it when you talk about your ‘conquests’ and all the other idiosyncrasies you have done in your juvenile years. Too cliché, but I always knew that deep down those rough edges is a person with a heart of gold (if someone just look at them in a right light).
Being with you for the past few months was hard to describe. We were wrapped around our li’l bubble of perpetual fun – the young, wild and free kind.
Our minds wander too much (even if everything is still in its rough draft) hoping to explore the unexplored.
Those summits we vowed to ascend.
The ancient architectures we promised to go into.
Those massive massif we dreamt of trekking.
Plans. You got me covered with them.
Things that my scatterbrain haven’t formulated since I have stopped living my life mapping out the future because it died on its natural death twenty-five months ago.
So the old forgotten blueprint needs to be revived and altered.
Because now there’s you.
When Haiyan hit the Philippines and I saw the devastating effect it had on people’s lives, I really wanted to do something to help. If you’re in the US, please buy a copy of Love & Misadventure to help our Filipino friends!
Thank you. It means a whole lot to my country. :)
I may not be a ray of sunshine but you could at least give me a credit for staying.”