THE HANGAR

THE HANGAR

 

I remembered one time when I was around fifteen I was at our store lying down on a mat on the floor and I just woken up from a siesta. We had this “estante” made of glass and freshly-baked bread lined the trays. I squinted through the glass just where a shaft of light hit and was displaced into a corner forming tiny little rays. It was nothing spectacular. I just have this habit of noticing even little things that are normally of no consequence to anyone. But at that time, as I move my eyes to the side to avoid the sharp glint that started to hurt my eye I caught a view of the scenery outside. It was an ordinary day with a picturesque sight. Maybe it was the way the trees moved in the gentle wind or the way the afternoon light slowly descended to throw its golden colors to the tall and slender wild grass that moved along with the wind. The mahoganies that lined the borders of the forest facing our house stood tall with their leaves catching the same light and the wind played with them gently producing a rustling sound so soft it would have lulled me back to sleep. But the view engaged all my senses awake into full attention while I take it all in.

 

It was the same beauty I witnessed when I was with my former boyfriend who joined me for an afternoon walk at the hangar. Ever since I already loved walking. It was a habit I developed and came to like while living at the airbase where vehicles would seldom enter to pick up passengers because of the stringent rules at the gates. We always have to walk outside the base to hail a tricycle to take us to school.

 

During weekends, I enjoyed long afternoon walks when the sun had already set oftentimes with my friend, Madel. I also offer this walk to my other friends as a pastime whenever they visit us at the base. They somehow took a great liking to it and became quite attached to the place.

 

At age 21, I had my first boyfriend. After a month of being together, I invited him out for a stroll at the base thinking that perhaps we could enjoy a walk together like I did with my friends. We passed through the same canopy of acacia trees where we rode the bike during that one rainy morning. I had traversed it a thousand times but many times I would see it a little bit differently. During that time, the sun was already setting and the atmosphere was dry perhaps because summer was already approaching. The leaves turned a little bit brown and the air was warm despite the breeze. I remembered the large water tank ahead raised on a high platform towering over us as we pass by and turn into the dirt road. There was a puddle underneath which ran wild with kangkongs and dotted with violet wildflowers at the sides. Sometimes canary-coloured ducklings would even go there and swim. I actually already forgot what we talked about while we walked and even after we reached the area. All I remembered was the sight of it and the feeling of him near me as we watched the view in silence. Before us was an open field where lay a vast sea of tall and slender grass, light amber in color bending a bit under the gentle force of the wind. It was around dusk and the silence was defeaning as we watched the wave-like motion of the golden stalks continuously getting blown by the wind. Then, a flock of sparrows took flight and spiralled briskly into the air away from us and towards that direction where the sun set. I was in a mixed state of awe and deep reflection while he, although amazed, seemed to have divided attention that he appeared to have not absorbed the scenery before him in all its glory. Perhaps nature just moved us differently. We have been together for eight years when we broke up after one year of being unofficially engaged.