Yearning for a Jovial Melody

It was about nightfall when the rehearsals for the Cotillion de Honor came to an end. My body felt like it was on the verge of collapse. I was out of breath, while sweat kept dripping endlessly all over my skin. However, I knew that my heart was not beating out of restlessness, but because of the thrill. It was telling me that these are the moments I am living for; when I am most alive.

As we prepared to go home, my friend, Ria, and I were gushing about the most anticipated grand finals to be finally held tomorrow at the Promenade.

"At last, our misery will come to an end!" she exclaimed, quite mischievously.

I giggled. "I wonder if this lost me a few pounds."

We may have been practicing rigorously for the past three months, but I enjoyed every second whenever I was dancing, and I couldn't care less who could possibly win among the promising candidates. Not to mention how they were all exceptionally beautiful and thin. Compared to me who was scarred and carried excess weight. There was no point in competing against them. I knew very well that I am no protégé. Passion cannot always take you places you want to go. What I did acknowledge was that I've already been blessed to have the opportunity to perform with this ratio.

"Ay, this kid! You're already beautiful." she told me.

I wrinkled my nose in response. I always thought that whenever my friends would praise me, it was more requisite than the truth. I never once found myself as someone worthwhile.

Walking along the campus grounds, we would always pass by this great old tree dwelling in the middle of the hall. I was told that it has stood there ever since the university was first founded. It must have witnessed people come and go, and how everything changed throughout the course of nature. Sometimes, I wonder if it misses the good old days it spent in silence, until I suddenly heard a tune as the leaves brushed against each other, while the fallen rustled on the concrete pathway as we sauntered. Living or dying, they both sing about their stories.

Ria hugged herself as the cold breeze blew. "Last time I checked, Christmas is already over."

"Can't you hear the carols?" I teased.

She flashed a wide grin as she shook her head, "You always hear music wherever you go."

And she was right. From then onwards, I told myself that I was going to remember the melody I heard that serendipitous night. It spoke to me; with a message that I needed to hear at that moment of inferiority. However, fate did not rest on my side for too long.

The next morning, the whole world came to an abrupt pause. Everything that was planned returned waiting on its shelf. Everyone was suddenly confined behind closed doors. Every fickle of light that I desperately try to keep inside of me has finally left. I was crestfallen, when I thought that I was about to take flight.

A school year ended without a goodbye, without a prelude, without a warning. I begged the heavens to allow me to finish the remaining pages of our story. But it was to no avail. My cries remained unheard. As my cheerful memories grew more distant in each passing day, I fear that time will come when I would succumb into the depths of a spiral void. Found dreadful and unable to escape. Stuck within the four corners of my own home, where I should feel the most comfort. However, I can no longer bear the same scenarios on repeat. I refuse to have my life turn into a broken record that plays a cacophonous melody without an end.

Then I realized that maybe we aren't just on the same note. Or I might have become tone deaf a long time ago. I must have lost the ability to recognize the sound of joy. It's been a while since I've heard of it, after all. And whenever I would try to take a glimpse out of my window, there is not much difference with the awkward silence ringing inside my head.

A morning came when I took the courage to ask my mother if I could accompany her to run errands, as I grew impatient to go outside these walls. I might have sounded nonchalant upon my inquiry but I almost peed myself. I was against someone who was always neat, very strict, and never misses a single beat. How could an honorable woman, such as her, bring her beloved child outside amidst all of this chaos?

"Please, mama! It's only three streets afar. I'd be the unluckiest one if I caught a virus along the way."

"And that's what I hate about luck! You will never know if it's with you or not."

Touché.

I sighed inside my head with utmost hostility. I should have chosen a different argument. After a series of indisputable protests, she finally allowed me to go. I found it absolutely ridiculous how I've reached this extent just to do something I usually would.

Alas, I have met the gentle breeze once more. I wanted to savor the moment as it touches my skin and to inhale all of its purity. But every breath is hindered by a stifling mask. Even the air is now treated with reservation. There is so much that was taken away from us, that those we deemed simple feel so grand now. And among those I've missed, what caught my attention was the lovely music made by rustling leaves on the concrete pathway as we sauntered. Nature is a live band playing for the world every single day; mimicking the sounds we yearn to hear into an innate orchestra that transcends throughout centuries.

It took me back to the night before the anticipated grand finale; where I revived a fragment of hope within me, only to be destroyed the following day. This time, and for sure, my epiphany will recognize no boundaries. For the world is filled with music and it promises to speak with me in a euphonious melody for eternity.