CALLOUSED BY urban concrete every day, there is nothing my feet want more than to sink into pristine Cebu sand. The sea never fails to bring repose. The salty breeze unclogs noses used to constantly filtering dust, and the sight of docking ships resets brains desensitized by overstimulation.
My family cannot understand why I could not sleep. They anticipate the trip to the beach too. But not as much as I do. I am restless.
Earlier this evening, I ran to the grocery store to buy everything we would need. The aisles of instant noodles and biscuits ran low in stock; I guess many other people are going on vacations as well.
I also prepared non-perishable food, for in the next few days I may not have access to a fridge. Besides, what good is a vacation devoid of adobo, barbecue and smoked fish? I went home.
Then I went out again.
“Alis ka nang alis? Parang masyado ka namang napa-praning?” my wife said. I shrugged.
I filled up the car. I bought butane, batteries and charcoal. I told the kids to charge all our devices and the wife to help me clean the tents.
Apparently, I was wrong. The sea fails to bring repose. It is as if all the heaviness it absorbs from the world can also spew out all at once.
From our room across the city, I stared until the storm had passed. When we left the room, the beach was gone, hiding in the depths of pumping stations and creeks. It resembled a run-down apartment sink where ignorant tenants dump dirty cooking oil.
I was looking forward to the accommodation of lootbags of rice and preserved meat, but we never even got to use the things we had prepared. I wonder if the beach will return again. F
