The Bridge in Between Sunbeams

Simula

Sisle Merida Martel

Push

Hindi pa man sumisikat ang araw ay gising na ang diwa ko. Rinig ko na rin ang iilang tilaok ng manok sa di kalayuan at ang tila sabay na pag-awit ng mga ibon sa labas. Kahit gising na ay hindi pa rin ako bumabangon. Nanatili akong nakahiga at nakatanaw sa kisame, pasimpleng inaabangan ang pagsilip ng unang sinag ng araw sa bahagyang nakaawang kong bintana.

Sa katunayan ay gising na ako alas dos pa lang ng madaling araw. Naghihintay na lang ako na mag-umaga at makapaghanda sa araw ko.

The dream I had last night, did not permit me to go back to sleep. It haunted me and occupied the remaining hours of my time that's supposed to be spent for resting.

If someone asked me if I had a bad dream...no, I didn't.

Sa panaginip ko ay masayang masaya ako, ni hindi ko alam ang dahilan. Hindi ko nga rin alam kung totoong saya ang nararamdaman ko roon, dahil kailanman hindi ko na hinayaan ang sarili kong makaramdam ng kahit katiting na saya.

It was the most illuminating and tranquil dream I ever had. The most peaceful I ever was. With the beams of the sun hitting my skin, I ran happily in a field of white roses. I was smiling. I was giggling, even. It felt like I was full of the joys of spring and summer at once. I was bouncing like a kid, one foot and then the other. I pranced around, while my tangled hair danced with the whistles of the wind. I picked each flower my eyes landed on. I picked as many as I can carry in my arms. I was happy. Too happy.

Too good to be reckoned as my reality.

I consider it nightmare, because I feel guilty of feeling so much happiness that I don't want to wake up. I consider it nightmare, because I don't think I deserve that much happiness when I knew the darkness of my reality.

When the first ray of the orange sun hit the tiny spaces in between my windows, I then called it another day. I got up and made my bed.

Binuksan ko ang lahat ng bintana ko sa kwarto at tila mahikang nagsipasukan ang sinag ng araw sa bawat sulok at lumiwanag ang buong paligid. Tumayo rin ako sa harap ng bintana at hinayaang magbabad ang sarili sa sinag ng araw.

The first sunbeams hitting my face and my skin is my favorite thing. It reminds of another day. The little lingering sting that comes along with it, reminds me that I am still alive and breathing.

It reminds of my brother and sister, Oceania and Alon.

My morning routine after soaking a little under the sun rays, is staring and caressing the only reminder I have of my siblings. Our photo together.

"Balang araw," bulong ko at hinalikan ang picture ng litrato naming magkakapatid.

I was fourteen when our mother died of untreated cancer. Her last wish was for me to look after my young siblings, who was 7 and 5 at that time. Bata pa lang ay naging mulat na ako sa mundo nang mamatay si mama. I took care of my siblings but we're still under my mother's husband, my stepdad's roof. He was drunkard who was beating us every chance he gets. I would understand it if I was the only one he beat to pulp, because I was not his kid in the first place. But, he was beating his own children too.

Ilang buwan o malapit mag-isang taon matapos mamatay ang nanay namin ay sumunod sa kaniya si Tito Carlo. He died because of liver and heart complications. He died in his sleep. I bet he didn't struggle much. Which he didn't deserve.

Just so I thought that our calvary of being a punching bag to my stepdad's beating had ended when they lowered him down his grave next to my mother's, we were left to the care of tito Carlo's relatives.