Bora 2005

The sun is shy on my last day in Boracay.He descends amidst a curtain of clouds, peeking. A shy golden god. Amidst the endless stream of beautiful unfamiliar places, I hold his stare. It is just me and him. He beams his gold rays upon my sun-kissed skin. And I close my eyes to feel it.

It is a beautiful communion.

I thought it would be quite fitting to end my nearly a week stay upon his feet, I, alone on the beach; as a form of gratitude. Five days past and I know I am forever changed. There's is something in traveling alone that makes you better. Without the usual trappings of every conveniences, you are stripped to the basics. Usually left with your thoughts, you learn to discern which is important and not.

I had more than quite a few moments like that, here -- memories crashing in like waves upon a helpless shore. They begin: quiet, discreet, creeping into the present and then recede only to come back much stronger; and I am reduced to helplessness. That's why discernment becomes a requirement.

On the beach, today, I fight back. The old memories: Paul and all what-could-have-beens now belong to the sea, never to return again. Hopefully they will not haunt me. Hopefully, this is the last time I'll think about them.Today is the day I'll move on. I owe it to myself.

I tell my sun-god that as he settles in the horizon, leaving in his footsteps a cloud of rich deep orange and red. It is the end of another day. And for every thing that ends, something will start again.

(Written on March 25, 2005, in Casa Pilar, Station 3, Boracay)