Reflections

My grandmother used to tell us to shower during the first rain of May. The month is almost done and still no rain would visit us. Then, like a miracle, in the early afternoon of the day, the heavens became dark signaling the birth of a heavy downpour. Then, it came. After a long wait, the rains bathed the town. The earth having been deprived of a healthy concoction drowned itself lustily of the sweetness that is rain. I went out for a while. Since I was little, it was my tradition to bathe in the first shower of May. I inherited it from Nanay who claimed that agua de Mayo is good for the body. My mom and a sister joined me too. Whether it is really healthy or otherwise, I could only care less. The beauty of maintaining that tradition is quite nostalgic and riveting. Anyway, the rainwater feels cold in my skin, a welcome reprise from the scorching heat of the sun. Global warming has affected us so much. May is considered the month of flowers. It happens because rains come early durin

It is May again. It is when flowers abloom and the faithful flocks to the church to offer them to Mama Mary. This is how May is, the month of flowers. Mama Mary, the Queen of Flowers. When I was young, I would always join night prayers in tuklong (a sort of an improvised prayer chapel where people in a small community gather to pray especially in May) with other kids. Of course, the old folks would lead us to prayer. Then, there were singing and flower offering. But the most awaited part of the night is after the prayer. Sponsor for the night would offer food to eat for everyone in attendance. Young people, mostly kids, would queue up for arroz caldo, sopas, keleroy, pansit, what have you. Everyone would savor the little that we have and match it with lots of stories and laughters. The night would sleep late for young ones, while the older ones would brag them to go home after some time. That is how I used to remember my young life every time May is here. It is how I spent my nights w