scotch mist

Sometimes, nature gives you a sick sense of humor for a realization.

There's this guyabano outside of my room bearing several ripening fruits. 'Ignorable' guyabano is to me (I still go for mangoes when fruits) but I was drawn into stocktaking one day. There's this particular one that just got me: it is not the biggest (which would typically be the favored one) neither the most plump of the bunch (which would make for a pulpy shake) but I knew this tiny piece would just be right to 'satisfy' a craving in me. This one got me into daily morning visits and my anticipation was building for the 'right time' for this piece to finally ripen in the care of nature's elements. As they say, "masarap ang hindi hinog sa pilit" (what's ripened by time is more delightful).

Then the day finally came when I figured it's the right time for picking. I haven't climbed a tree in quite a time to note that the guyabano branch is not as sturdy to carry my weight and 'hantiks' (big red ants) had been guarding the trunk where 'my' fruit was hinged on. Quite a gamble for one 'ignorable' guyabano, but I was driven into letting loose of some defenses for this one glory - to my terms at least.

So how would you feel when you got out that morning mustering all hopes and find a flock of 'kulansyangs' (red-eyed black birds) pecking into 'your' fruit? Only the seeds which fell to the earth knew how long they had been devouring it.

A raging sense was all over you twinged with the eroding feeling of regret: I should have picked it 'yesterday'. Yet it was funny why looking at the birds cannot make you feel the audacity to drive them away. It's no longer of any use because even after you succeed in shooing them away and reclaim 'your' fruit, it might no longer serve its purpose since its flesh were already among the birds. What is there left for your planned guyabano shake?

Then you learn to take things as they are, maybe in the way they were intended to be. And finally, when you steered clear of things, you realize that you had no right to claim 'that' guyabano as yours: looking by the window you knew that the 'kulansyangs' owned the entire tree. They always did and never really left it. While my eyes were fixed on 'that' fruit, I did not notice that on a far branch, they had built nests. I couldn't know for how long they had been humming melodies for that guyabano to ripen.

What better thing to do but to retreat to your own confines. You cannot continue wallowing on that wee bit feeling of loss over that 'thing' that cannot become, had never been yours in the first place. What better thing to believe is to be persuaded in the thought that somewhere, other 'guyabanos' will soon come into bloom that no birds own. What better thing to realize is that you have the capacity to 'nurture' and have hope.

Outside, the rain slowly drip and I noticed that there are new buds coming into bloom. I hope in time, the birds will give me 'this' one piece.