Summer Rain

Isn’t it funny how, despite the distance, things can seem to be so in sync with each other..?

 

     Today would be the last day of my Natsu Yasumi, or Summer Vacation.  Despite being supposedly hot and dry, Fukushima Prefecture went through a patch of stormy weather this week.  A definite damper for the sun worshippers and swimming enthusiasts, but such a refresher for reflective dreamers like me.  And the parallelism with my hometown is so marked that I can’t help but smile.  The Philippines had its own bout with two consecutive typhoons this week, so much so that classes have been suspended for almost four days.  I know that typhoons back home mean flooding and various little inconveniences, but I selfishly felt a twinge of joy because somehow, the likeness of the weather made me feel like I was home… almost…

     My vacation was spent cooped up in my apartment; cooking, reading, browsing the net, having conversations with my family and friends through instant messaging, and of course, long and comforting voice conversations with my boyfriend, James.  Thinking back, I still find it hard to believe that I’ve been living alone for almost eleven months.  What makes me more incredulous is that I have survived.  Me; the unabashed mommy’s girl and daddy’s pet, the girl who thrives on interdependence and who basks under familial love, the kid-at-heart who still crawls beside mom in her bed during thunderstorms and bouts with bad dreams, the scaredy-cat who is afraid of the darkness and fearsome shadows.  It’s amazing really.  And I can say now that I have learned more from the year I spent in Japan alone, than in all my educational years spent in school.

     Independence is a wonderful thing.  Upon arriving in Japan, I embraced it and relished it, like a captive bird that has finally been granted freedom.  I was learning a new language, interacting with people of a different culture, discovering new things and exploring new places.  The superficial novelty, however, wore off soon enough.  After some time, I found my mornings growing dimmer, my afternoons a lot more quiet, and my nights quite colder.  And when my family celebrated my mom’s birthday with me taking part merely through a webcam, tears started falling like rain… and I couldn’t stop.

     James was a much-needed balm to my lonely soul during those times.  In him, I found solace and comfort.  And the tears I had to hold back from my family, the mask that always says “I’m okay” just slipped away as he listened.  And somehow, some of the sadness faded away as he sang for me.  He was, still is, my constant.  And for that and countless more reasons, I am so grateful that I have him in my life.

     Who would’ve thought that some of the most important of life’s lessons could be crammed up in merely eleven months?  The passage of days brought about so many realizations that I feel as if I matured a couple of years more than my physiological age.  I guess three realizations stand out more than the others.  First is that you never truly realize the value of something until it is taken away.  The small things I used to take for granted took on tremendous meaning , and the simple nuances of daily life surrounded by familiar faces became all the more poignant.  I miss the way my mom would creep into my room to turn off my alarm, just so she’d be the one to wake me up in the morning.  I miss the way my gramma would speak to me in her soft, lilting Spanish tone.  I miss the way my catechetical students would insist on making sampaguita garlands for me after Sunday school.  I miss taking my niece to school and holding the umbrella over her head whenever it gets too hot.  I miss caring touches; be it a hug from a friend, holding my niece’s hand, hanging on to my cousin’s arm, a kiss on my mom’s cheek right after we say “Peace be with you” during Sunday mass…

     Second would be that I am stronger than I think I am.   In the course of the past eleven months, I have dealt with a strong brunt of culture shock, pressure from an entirely new working environment, manic nights of research for my school requirements, a mild case of separation anxiety from my family, a lot of homesickness episodes, and to top it all of, a shattered heart.  If you’ve asked me a year ago if I could manage all these in one blow, I would’ve said “NO” outright.  But, amazingly, I did manage.  And I’m still okay.  In fact, I’ve never been better. 

     Third, and perhaps most important of all, is that faith can, indeed, move mountains.  In times when things are at their dreariest, prayers and faith can bring much comfort and a renewed sense of tranquility.  I have gone through a whole spectrum of emotions; from the headiest elation, to the most nerve-wracking fear, and heartwrenching pain.  I have laughed and cried, raged and acquiescenced, prodded and retreated.  And through it all, my faith made realities easier to understand, burdens lighter to bear, and circumstances easier to accept.

     It has really been a learning-filled eleven months.  And I can rightfully say that I have done a lot of contemplation, and a lot of growing up in the process.  The words family, friendship, and love took on whole new meanings for me.  I will be coming home in just a few week’s time, and I’ll be coming home with a new perspective on things.  It has been a tough road, but traversing it has had its own rewards.  The rain is still pattering on my windowsill right now, but I find much comfort in the fact that the while the rain can sometimes bring about melancholy, it brings renewal and refreshment as well. 

     Just a few more weeks… I am almost home… almost with my family and friends… almost in his arms…