Woke up to a heavy downpour. It's half past five in the morning and power's out, and there's hardly any light outside that the trees swaying in the wind are giant silhouettes dancing to an eerie symphony of howling wands, rain bearing down on roofs, branches breaking, windows left unlocked slamming. The dance of the fallen, I thought. Nothing else is moving in the dim kitchen except me and the clock on the wall. I light a candle.
The 20th of September, 2014, the 13th typhoon of the year makes landfall. The neighbor's rooster crows a hopeful crow, the only reminder that this is still, despite the tempest, indeed a brand new day. You know, the first of the rest...
It is much brighter now, light finds a way through thick clouds. The porch is littered with leaves. Bamboos not strong enough to withstand the gusts, or flexible enough to bend in the wind, lay on the ground. I will clean up later when the rains slow down a bit.
But it is a new day. I've forgotten how fresh the air felt after a storm. The wind sweeps and the all that water washes away all that is yesterday's, and we're left with a clean slate. On this 41st year, a clean slate.
And there - today is, indeed, a good day and a good way to celebrate a birthday.
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