A Piece of Candy

It is the morning of Friday, July 18, 2014. Getting up early for work after a storm and its aftermath is not so bad. Once I am up and dressed I am raring to go. I holed up at home the duration of the storm and two days after. I could imagine the devastation outside--I saw some of it on TV. The actual sight of felled trees, street posts, and billboards was, therefore, not a surprise. I can only wonder how long the clean-up and restoration will take, and how long others will have electric power in their houses again. Sometimes disasters like this will remind us that we have become too complacent in modern life. Rather than wasting time griping we should all be compelled to learn how to make do, to improvise, to be resourceful, to be creative--to be self-sufficient even, if it should come to that, as the caveperson was inside his or her cave.

I buy two shiny hair clips at a vendor's stall on Taft Avenue. She has known me for a long time now, and usually sets aside her fanciest clips for me. United Nations Avenue at 6:00 AM is as clear as a Sunday morning, and so I decide to walk the five blocks that will take me to Roxas Boulevard. Midway my morning tricycle driver pulls up beside me. He was not at the tricycle line when I passed by. One of his colleagues, however, spotted me and informed him so upon his arrival. I take the ride because it is possible that he needs the money for his breakfast.

Many trees on the office compound have also been felled by the storm or have torn-off branches or are all askew like bowling pins that no one bothered to set up properly. As usual only Yoly of the Information Section and I are the first to arrive. We have initial trouble getting on the office online system, and the Internet is down.

There is something on my keyboard--a piece of mango candy in bright, fennel-green, plastic wrapping. It is on my keyboard so that I will not fail to find it. A piece of candy on one's keyboard is actually a common occurrence in the office--when a co-worker travels, returns with goodies, and distributes them to everyone, or when he/she buys or receives a bag of candy on some occasion and decides to share them, or when someone decides to give out candy on a whimn, or wishes to remind you that you are friends, or is secretly in love with you and does not want you to ever know.

A piece of candy on one's keyboard is therefore more than just a piece of candy. It opens a door first within your mind, and then within your heart. It affirms for you that, no matter how many storms rage through the city and no matter how many trees are felled and no matter how much damage was done to your house and no matter how long it will take before your electric power is restored, there is someone out there who is thinking of you, and caring for you, and loving you--at least well enough to leave you a piece of candy on your keyboard.