I woke up at 9:15 this morning at the boisterous alarm of my phone. It had been probably ringing for over an hour. For a 10:30am class, that awakening from deep slumber was plain spectacular, as I needed to leave the house at least 45 minutes before my first class. And to add to that, it took me forever to complete my morning rituals. But my body filled with a certain sluggish feeling managed to miraculously prepare itself to leave the house at around 9:45am. My body hastily ate a meager breakfast, took a very brief bath, and dressed up in no time. I grabbed my things and bolted outside.
It is a custom of mine to tap my left pocket, then my right as I turn to Mt. Rainier.
I felt my handkerchief deep inside my left pocket. I remember going inside my parents' room to grab a hanky after I applied foot powder to of course, my feet.
I brushed my palm over my right pocket. Something felt missing.
The familiar bump on my right pocket was absent. The hard, rectangular shaped feeling was not present when I placed my palm on my pocket.
My phone was not there.
I hurried back as I winced at the glares of the workers I passed. I opened our gate, and headed straight to my room. As it turned out, my phone was covered by my blanket. I was too much in a hurry that I failed to properly fix my bed.
As I rushed to the main street of our subdivision, something kept popping in my mind. In the past, my phone was always ringing with text messages. I always kept it loud enough for me to hear if a message arrived. In school, I would secretly take my phone out of my pocket and hide it from my teacher's eyes and read whatever message had just arrived. My battery was always drained empty or was always low because of the constant ringing or vibration, activation of the screen, and sending of text messages. My thumbs, most of the time, were always pressing the keys of my phone in absolute speed and precision.
As I waited for a tricycle to take me outside, I constantly looked at my 43-minute advanced phone to take note of the time. I would open it slightly, just enough for the LCD on the top side of it to illuminate and display the time in big, bold, black numbers.
10:26
10:27
10:28
Minutes were ticking by. No tricycle appeared to give me a ride.
10:34
10:35
10:36
After an agonizing 10 minutes, I was able to get a tricycle.
It was almost 10:00am. I had almost less than 30 minutes to spare.
I sat behind manong tricycle's back and looked distantly at the scenes flying across my eyes like I always did. As the outside world became blurred with our velocity, I suddenly realized one thing:
I have never left behind my phone before. Never.
I never left it during the times when it was always humming silently in my right pocket, as it waited for me to see its pleasant surprise. It was always with me during the times when it was always loaded. It was always with me during the times I needed to plug my phone to charge it every other day, not like now that even after two days, it still has two out of the three bars lit.
10:37
10:38
10:39
10:40
But now, it tells nothing but time.
I don't need time. I'm tired of waiting.
It is a custom of mine to tap my left pocket, then my right as I turn to Mt. Rainier.
I felt my handkerchief deep inside my left pocket. I remember going inside my parents' room to grab a hanky after I applied foot powder to of course, my feet.
I brushed my palm over my right pocket. Something felt missing.
The familiar bump on my right pocket was absent. The hard, rectangular shaped feeling was not present when I placed my palm on my pocket.
My phone was not there.
I hurried back as I winced at the glares of the workers I passed. I opened our gate, and headed straight to my room. As it turned out, my phone was covered by my blanket. I was too much in a hurry that I failed to properly fix my bed.
As I rushed to the main street of our subdivision, something kept popping in my mind. In the past, my phone was always ringing with text messages. I always kept it loud enough for me to hear if a message arrived. In school, I would secretly take my phone out of my pocket and hide it from my teacher's eyes and read whatever message had just arrived. My battery was always drained empty or was always low because of the constant ringing or vibration, activation of the screen, and sending of text messages. My thumbs, most of the time, were always pressing the keys of my phone in absolute speed and precision.
As I waited for a tricycle to take me outside, I constantly looked at my 43-minute advanced phone to take note of the time. I would open it slightly, just enough for the LCD on the top side of it to illuminate and display the time in big, bold, black numbers.
10:26
10:27
10:28
Minutes were ticking by. No tricycle appeared to give me a ride.
10:34
10:35
10:36
After an agonizing 10 minutes, I was able to get a tricycle.
It was almost 10:00am. I had almost less than 30 minutes to spare.
I sat behind manong tricycle's back and looked distantly at the scenes flying across my eyes like I always did. As the outside world became blurred with our velocity, I suddenly realized one thing:
I have never left behind my phone before. Never.
I never left it during the times when it was always humming silently in my right pocket, as it waited for me to see its pleasant surprise. It was always with me during the times when it was always loaded. It was always with me during the times I needed to plug my phone to charge it every other day, not like now that even after two days, it still has two out of the three bars lit.
10:37
10:38
10:39
10:40
But now, it tells nothing but time.
I don't need time. I'm tired of waiting.
1 comment:
nung una ako magkaphone, alarm clock nga din un. kuripot kasi ako sa load.
pero nung nauso ang unlimited texting, wala nang dahilan para magkuripot pa. :))
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