the prologue
May. 8th, 2008 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
levityI was sitting at the very end of the rectangular ice-cream-parlor table, at the place exactly opposite of my grandfather's. Had I had a tail it would be swishing impatiently, from side to side to side again like a metronome, counting down the minutes till my slice of ice cream cake arrived. For a Monday afternoon in February, it seemed very much like summer.
Global warming, it was in my second nature to think. It was a very Pisay reaction, and it should have reminded me, but didn't.
The twins were running around, little incarnations of energy, with their eternal questions and side comments. Tito Angel, his calm, slow voice perfectly audible despite the fact that he was six people away from me, was talking about preparations for their upcoming trip to the rice terraces of Sagada, in the North. Kuya Gabby, wedged into the corner of table beside me, was attacking a dish of chicken of some sort (Gallus gallus, I had thought, though at that moment the source of that bit of knowledge escaped me) with unparalleled ferocity, as was his wont. My ice cream cake arrived at not-so-long last, my imaginary tail stopped swishing, and in the few seconds between picking up my fork and digging in, something fell into place.
Global warming.
Summer.
A trip.
Gallus gallus.
"Shoot!" I screamed, seemingly out of nowhere, breaking the combined tranquility of family and ice cream parlor. "Ohmygulay. Shoot. Shoot."
I had forgotten my field bio interview.
Global warming, it was in my second nature to think. It was a very Pisay reaction, and it should have reminded me, but didn't.
The twins were running around, little incarnations of energy, with their eternal questions and side comments. Tito Angel, his calm, slow voice perfectly audible despite the fact that he was six people away from me, was talking about preparations for their upcoming trip to the rice terraces of Sagada, in the North. Kuya Gabby, wedged into the corner of table beside me, was attacking a dish of chicken of some sort (Gallus gallus, I had thought, though at that moment the source of that bit of knowledge escaped me) with unparalleled ferocity, as was his wont. My ice cream cake arrived at not-so-long last, my imaginary tail stopped swishing, and in the few seconds between picking up my fork and digging in, something fell into place.
Global warming.
Summer.
A trip.
Gallus gallus.
"Shoot!" I screamed, seemingly out of nowhere, breaking the combined tranquility of family and ice cream parlor. "Ohmygulay. Shoot. Shoot."
I had forgotten my field bio interview.
