I woke up to a somber morning. It was still dark and the smells of last night’s air still lingered about. The streets were unusually quiet for my neighborhood even at this time. It’s either people are still asleep or have gone to their hometowns for All Souls Day.
All Souls Day.
Then names of people come streaming to mind. Rosario. Juanita. Doroteo. Dennis. Beatrice. Gregoria. Alberto. Nenita. Michael. Emmanuel. Rene. Sonia. Michaela. Bea. There are many more but I do not remember now but then, I’ve always been bad at remembering names.
The streets was still asleep as I stepped out to head for the office. Meng, wrapped in a thin blanket, was still sleepy on his tricycle.
I wonder if they knew that I was thinking of them. I wonder if they knew that I see their faces in the places I get to visit or in the moments I remember. Sometimes, I wonder if they are actually watching over me or is it just in my head. Then I see some pouting face form in my head. Well, I hope they are watching.
The bus was cold but the seat is comfortable and I settle in and nap.
I remember a series of moments strung together with each name. That widening smile when we see each other. That boisterous laughter. That facial or vocal expression only that person can give me. The way they’d take may hand or scratch my back. I remember broken images of the way they would tell a story.
I wake just a couple of blocks from my stop. Ned or Ted gives me my coffee and I walk to the office.
Tonight I am going to light a candle for all those names and all those remembered moments. All Souls Day. I hope they’re watching and smiling at me.