The Rainy Days Begin

I was looking at the raindrops. It seemed consistent with its dripping. Then, I was staring at them intently. It was a frozen capsule of time. At that moment, I was motionless. Many things were running through my mind. But, one thing overshadowed everything else. How would I be able to get home?

I was in third grade then. I was on my own. Nobody would fetch me from school. A crisis at a young age. It was the first time that I would go home on a rainy afternoon. Maybe it would be fun, I remember thinking about it. I loved playing in the rain.

The only problem was, I was wearing my school uniform. Would I be reprimanded for it? I had the notion, then, that I was not wearing play clothes, so I should not get wet. Why?

Well, because I would wear the same school shirt the next day. It was a complex-mind-boggling predicament for a young lad indeed.

I waited for the rains to stop. You must understand for young people a minute could seem like an hour. And an hour could seem like eternity. You know that too, you were young once.

Now, thinking about it, honestly, I do not know how it ended. That childhood tale. I was just mesmerized by the raindrops. That is all I could remember. A memory etched in my mind.

In teen-age years-- when typhoons would come to our region --we stayed glued to the radio. We waited for announcements, specifically, the typhoon signals. My brothers and I would be ecstatic when it was Signal Number 2. That meant there would be no classes. The innocence of youth.

Having matured over the years, when there would be typhoons, I feel concerned. I think about the fields and its farmers. I think about the poor people with homes that are not sturdy. I think about the damages and sheer havoc that the typhoon would bring along with it to the country.

With the coming of Climate Change due to Global Warming and destruction of the Environment, my concerns had become much graver. Now, I am troubled. When I see clips of fauna developing with abnormalities, I see the impending dangers.

It is a wake-up call. This is a precarious stage of addressing it as soonest as possible. We must take action now lest we regret the irreversible effects of the degradation of Mother Nature.

Hope in you. Hope in him and her. Hope together. A call for unity. This takes a global effort. What happens in a tiny island in Oceania would affect the shores of Australia.

Every time the first Water of May pour from the skies, there is a prayer answered. The Hope. The opportunity. A new beginning. A time to take action. Agua de Mayo. Yes, the Water of May.

I still love the smell of the Naga River. I still love the smell of the Bicol River. I can see people fishing on the bridges of the City of Naga. Fishes are still alive in the waters of the river.

We must preserve the condition of our river. Not only because it is good per se but because they play a significant role in our religious life locally. During fluvial processions they are the stage of the iconic festivities of Bicolandia.

In September, the rains are all the more needed. The water level rises along the river that runs through the city. The river gates are shut to retain the water. Otherwise, the pagoda of Ina will have difficulties in traversing the Naga River.

In the final analysis, God made us stewards of His creation. That is our primary purpose. We even named the things in His creation. Let us do just that. Let the rains begin.