I Got Inspired, So Here...

Thursday, October 02, 2014

"Visitor to a Moonlit Churchyard"
(c) Philippe Jacques de Loutherbourg
Lydia Comes to Visit

She knew it was time because of the colors. When she gazed at the skies and saw the shade of bruises, she knew she had to go. It had become natural, like breathing. It was the same exact time everyday. She didn't bother to fix her hair nor powder her nose. These were nuisance. She only needed the essentials—all of which were safely covered in dirty cheese cloth.


She started making her way towards their rendezvous. She was old and feared loud noises and things that go fast. She wished she didn't have to cross the street. But she had to.

A young couple appeared. Geared up for a jog, she guessed. She asked them if they were going to cross and the girl said yes. She asked if they could cross together. The girl smiled. Together they crossed the street. She even grabbed the hand of the girl. The girl clenched her hand too, and that made her smile in turn. She was glad for the company, however brief it was.

She was near their rendezvous. She carefully tread in the green grass. It smelled nice today. There was also a soft breeze wafting. She caught a phrase while making her way: “the angels got lonely so they called her to play with them.” She chose to smile at this.

She sat down on the grass. She knew the spot by heart. She carefully unraveled the cheese cloth. Inside was a box of matches and a single white candle. She lit up a match and was glad the flame held up despite the breeze. She kindled the wick of the slender white candle and propped it firmly on the upper right side of the battered piece of square marble.

She was here everyday at the same exact time. Tears began to run. She closed her eyes. She made the exact same promise she made a long time ago. She swore she would never stand him up. 


Note: I wrote this piece with the intention of being grammatically and structurally callous. I didn't care to be grandiose. I just wanted to pour out whatever was needed to be poured out.

A little backstory...
  
Yesterday, I happened upon a woman whose story I tried to tell here. I didn't know her. She asked Dennis and I if she could cross the street with us. We were on our way for a jog in the "Holy Gardens". I subtly followed her with my eyes. She sat on the grass, lit up a candle and just stayed there. She was there almost our entire jog--an hour, give or take. I wondered who she came to visit. But it didn't really matter. I didn't really thought about this at that time, but now that I have I felt sad. And touched. And a little angry. I thought it was unfair to her. It was unfair to her and everyone else who lost a loved-one. I know death happens, but it was still unfair...

"Nalungkot ang mga anghel kaya tinawag siya upang makalaro" was an epitaph for a 9-year old girl. (I know this because I counted). Just like Lydia, I chose to smile at this.

Originally posted on Facebook. March 19, 2013.

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