Takna
"When will you be back?" she asks.
"I'm thinking next month."
Ay, this constant leaving and returning. My chest tightens. She is more quiet now than I remember. I exhale deeply.
"When will you be back?" she asks again, her memory more fickle this time.
"March, Mom."
"Okay, anak."
I hail a cab. Rain pours. Traffic ensues. The lights change. Cab driver steps on the accelerator. The city roars to life. My trip is still three hours away. Plenty of time, I think.
Cab driver steers to the fast lane. "Ang takna alas siete baynte sa kabuntagon," Voice from the radio barks.
"I have plenty of time," I say again to myself. I look at my watch, catch myself holding my breath as thoughts drift to our home where my mother, more quiet than before, who asks me twice, when I will be back, waits for March.
"I'm thinking next month."
Ay, this constant leaving and returning. My chest tightens. She is more quiet now than I remember. I exhale deeply.
"When will you be back?" she asks again, her memory more fickle this time.
"March, Mom."
"Okay, anak."
I hail a cab. Rain pours. Traffic ensues. The lights change. Cab driver steps on the accelerator. The city roars to life. My trip is still three hours away. Plenty of time, I think.
Cab driver steers to the fast lane. "Ang takna alas siete baynte sa kabuntagon," Voice from the radio barks.
"I have plenty of time," I say again to myself. I look at my watch, catch myself holding my breath as thoughts drift to our home where my mother, more quiet than before, who asks me twice, when I will be back, waits for March.
Comments
Post a Comment