Anchored

Here comes another sunset.I sit out the remaining coding hours after work, reading in a coffee shop. The book takes me to Sudan during its civil war, when the murahaleen was burning Dinka villages and adolescent boys from South Sudan were joining the SPLA. It's both enraging and depressing, and while I take no pleasure in the suffering of others, I secretly feel grateful for my own lot in life. My own country, myself, we've had our own plight. But right now the sun is in my face. I have another serving of a sunset.

I set the book down and let the day's last rays of gold activate a memory. It hits spontaneously, like a potent, mnemonic drug.  It was the same sun that fell on us when we were at the beach, with D. and I. I was also reading then, happy hour beers clenched in my fist. It was the same sun that fell on the steep roads we were driving to Tagaytay. I see a view of the mountain, yellow and purple flowers in sight, so much green all over. I taste mango dressings, organic salads, a rainbow in my mouth lifted from heavy plates on a cooler, late afternoon weather. It was always with great company. Especially with D. and I. It's nice to remember that when you're all alone. I remember runs during sunset, and grateful for the time and strength covering an 80km total distance last month.

A story goes in my head. A ship is lost at sea. It found this island, set its anchors and saw this sunset. Profusely thankful, I write repeatedly about this light.