But the day after was not just about destruction and loss. It wasn't just about the prospect of dark, "powerless" nights and--as a visiting friend put it--shoulders weighed down by hopelessness. The day after was for drying out, for picking up the pieces and sponging out the mess. It was about surveying the scene and deciding that the loss is not that insurmountable.
Before Milenyo, storms in these parts were measured against Sisang, a particularly strong typhoon that hit ground 20 years ago. I wasn't around then, but I was told that the destruction was just terrible. Now, whenever there's talk of yet another storm, we pray that it won't be another Milenyo. And we prepare for the worst.
I don’t know, but where I come from, storms do have a way of drawing people together. Maybe it’s the cloud of uncertainty; of not knowing what the next day would be like after the destruction. Or maybe it is a matter of perspective: at the end of it all, it is not what was lost that is important: it is what remains.
A year later, we are back to normal. The leaves are back on the trees, houses have been repaired and we are all the wiser with memories of yet another of life's storms.
1 comment:
"Or maybe it is a matter of perspective: at the end of it all, it is not what was lost that is important: it is what remains."
This is so true. Anyone who has been through a storm--literally or otherwise--would know the importance of getting back on one's feet. I, too, am from a place that is almost always hit by typhoons. The best we can do is prepare, fortify and repair that which can be repaired.
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