Blowin' Medellin

Up here in Medellin, the northern wind is blowin'. Tis the habagat season, people say, and the sea is simply wild.

From my mother's kitchen window, I stare amazed at the sight of fishermen braving the seas. I'm tempted to call them fools but nah, I remember that up here, it's just a way of life. Further up, the street lights of a neighboring island blink like twinkling stars, telling me that despite all, life here goes on.

The rain makes a play for my affections but this time i prefer the sanctuary of my parents' home. Bereft of the beauty of sunsets, I haven't had the heart to venture yet outside the gates, to the seashore, the crashing waves, and onto the greyish horizon.

The wind hasn't stopped howling for days now. It comes and it goes. But even as the world rages outside, there is a stillness, a certain calmness in my parents' home that makes a girl's mind wander to dreams of slaying dragons and happy-ever-afters.

At night, just before the sound of the sea lulls me to sleep, I take comfort in the familiar brew of my mother's tea and the occasional hot chocolate. I haven't felt so safe in my life.

For the first few days, it was nice getting to know my parents all over again. I've got to say that small town life has its charm. People are seemingly simple and uncomplicated. The air is so crisp and clear and your eyes will beg to weep at the wide expanse of greenery dotted only by the occasional buildings and quaint houses.

The town is quiet but right now, my parents' home is filled with shouts and laughter. Save for my brother, everyone is here. For tomorrow we celebrate baby Allen's birthday. Since it's his first year, my sister is determined to give it a blast-- ice cream, balloons, and lotsa lotsa children.

I can't wait to go out and play again.