In the light of the afternoon

One afternoon on a weekend The Dude decided to take me somewhere low-key so I’d get a change of scene. We drove around the semi-deserted streets of Metro Manila, settled on a mall, had fruit juice and flavored ibos, and talked. We didn’t talk about us, though. We talked about movies, current affairs, House, puzzles, Manny Pacquiao, and maybe a little bit about how to tell good leatherware from bad leatherware.

It was nice. After a while, he turned on his computer and surfed, and I opened my book (a gift from him) and read. And the afternoon sunlight streamed down through the windows in its soft, watery orange-y way, and I wondered when I have stopped thinking about the future.


I have always been an A-type person who had to have a plan before embarking on something, whether it’s starting a craft project or just dealing with the laundry for the weekend. I had to know what my year would be like before committing to any new projects of major engagements. I’d always plan out my outfits for any appointment that would not require my office uniform. And my Moleskine planner would be filled with details of how my days are supposed to come out as, and each October I’d always make it at point to purchase next year’s planner, so I could plan ahead. I always needed an endpoint; I always needed gauges, parameters, markers, and timelines.

But somewhere along the way, I became less hard with myself. After all, we can only plan so much, but life always unfolds the way it wants to, no matter whether we plan for it or not. Planning would indeed make me more prepared, but if something catches me unawares, I’d more or less be able to come up with something to deal with it, anyway.

Perhaps this was why I never even brought up the future with The Dude on that afternoon. Life was right there, or should I say, we were right there, in the middle of life, as it was happening. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, and the earth didn’t shake and there was no thunder and lightning. It was just an ordinary, low-key, modest, quiet afternoon. And perhaps that is what we are for now: small, simple, modest, low-key, but functioning. Getting along, surviving each day as it comes, without plans, but knowing that we will be okay.


In the light of the afternoon, things are softer, slower, kinder, more hopeful. On afternoons like this, I know things will go on as they have before.

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