i'm posting the story i wrote for pedxing which took place last sunday sa sunken garden. the theme was lipad, puso, lipad!!! (feb na feb, diba) and right after, nagpalipad kami ng balloons. it was sooooo kawaii.
now before we begin, i just want to give the background of what you're about to read. i thought of some characters from stories i wrote in the past and i wanted one of them to be a little happier since i felt the theme called for a more optimistic point of view. i thought of the girl from filipino in sicily who got left behind and stuff. altering it a little bit, i got to write something. so anyways, here it is.
Don’t Wear Those Shoes Out When It’s Raining
Today, I looked at my shoe and I realized the sole was broken. I’ve been ignoring it these past few days but deep inside I knew something was wrong. It’s not how my foot should feel. I wasn’t meant to touch the ground with my sock. I traced the hole with my finger, checking the damage, recreating the scene with images in my mind when the rubber finally gave in to the floor. Maybe there is a heaven where shoes go to rest. Sadly though, this pair isn’t going anywhere but the shoe repair store.
Three weeks ago, I knew exactly how it felt. “If we were really meant to be together then I’m sure nothing will change in a couple of years” he wrote on a Post-it stuck on my door. When I went in, all of his things were gone- the records, the books, everything that vaguely resembled him. But I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. Deep down I knew it was bound to happen. I’m not exactly that naïve to ignore the signals he sent out when we were still together.
Who was it that once said that everyone has a wound to mend or a void to fill? As time went past, I’ve seen all the faces of love- some remotely forgettable, others harshly unforgivable. And these faces blur in front of me like a speeding train. I felt my feeble hands holding on to each one and wondering if this was the one who could heal that innate wound.
With Coltrane on the background, I started wondering what it was that that Post-it meant. I can imagine that he somehow believed in a force that exists in the world which binds two people together in the end, no matter what. And when the cosmos finally arranges for the two to meet, birds will sing, sonnets will be sung, and the clouds, well, they do whatever it is clouds do when it’s a wonderful day. And maybe, just maybe, a Band-aid begins to close the wound in their proverbial hearts.
But after spending time and effort to see the faces of love, I could feel my wound only growing deeper, wider and with each tear, I felt more and more of my flesh being exposed. This brought about a confusion of sorts for if finding the one could fill that void, how come it only grows deeper and darker with each person I let in?
As I walk up to the busy shop with my broken shoe, I see that many people have broken shoes and broken hearts- each one of us trying desperately to fill that void, to patch up that wound, haplessly like a chicken attempting flight. How easy it would be to just turn my back on everything- to leave the image of the speeding train behind and with any luck reclaim the peace that I felt was stolen from me.
I watch as the craftsman gently takes the old sole from my shoe. It’s time to let the past go.
I see him selecting which sole will fit perfectly. Maybe I should be more careful who I let into my life.
As he puts the shoe and the new sole together, a bead of sweat drops to the floor. When the right one comes, I’ll work hard to keep him there.
He wipes the debris off the side of the shoe and after careful inspection declares his job is done. When I’m whole again, my heart can fly.
He wraps the shoe in a plastic bag and after setting my account, hands them to me. With a smile, he said “It’s a good thing it isn’t raining. You wouldn’t want to be stuck with a broken sole and a wet foot.”
I smiled back and said “If only you knew.” If only he knew.