Even a thousand peas won’t make me less comfortable when I hear them sing. I’d gladly curl myself even with the shortest blanket, and still won’t say a thing. Hundreds of bed time stories about terrible mornings and sunsets; but it’s them who helps me fall asleep.
“Zzzzzzzzzzz…” The buzz of my alarm startled me. I hear a familiar voice saying the same old things about the ruins of the typhoons, and of the continuously increasing number of people dying from the virus. I can no longer hear her stories of catastrophic events that can potentially ruin my morning, so I asked for the mockingbirds to sing.
I love how the positive notes of Do Re Mi’s can efface the negative news and statements that people around me keeps on mumbling. I know that people are dying, but at least I am still alive. Isn’t it all that matters? I’d ask a friend, but he lives too far, so I asked the mockingbirds to sing.
People acknowledge how strong and resilient I am, always putting up a smile on my face despite of all the problems underlying my deep-carved smile. And to that I am eternal grateful to the mockingbirds. Last night, I heard that a lot more people suffer from hunger due to the repercussion of the pandemic. But I can’t let this negativity eats me whole, so I asked the mockingbirds to sing.
I was enjoying the octaves and riffs of the mockingbirds, when I heard an odd story today. The familiar voice now tells me about the humongous sum of rotten bodies six feet under the ground. She enumerates names of strangers that fell from the cliff of despair, who kissed goodbye to their tomorrow so they can say “Hi” to my friend.
I was about to ask the mockingbirds to sing again for me, but the stench from the rotten bodies is overwhelming. I stood up from my bed, finally after decades of sleep, and stand there in horror of how dreadful the world have become. I walked out of my room, and every step I take felt like going through each ring of hell.
I rush my way to my friend, contemplating on maybe I should ask the mockingbirds again. Before I can come up with a sane plan, I saw his back. “Hi!”, I shouted.
I know that he has yet to make a sin but if killing the mockingbirds is what it takes to stop this deadly lullaby from playing, I’d be on my knees, pleading him to break their necks. Then maybe I’d notice the peas under my bed. Or finally wonder why the blanket’s that short. I’d know that mornings and sunsets, really are scary.
I hope he’d help me kill the mockingbirds. Then finally, I’d wake up from this sweet nightmare.
