I awakened from a deep slumber to the sound of flying pots and pans, smashing of plates and shattering of window panes.
Earthquake! I was alarmed, having developed a phobia for earthquakes in my elementary grades. However, instead of the expected tremor, a female’s high-pitched voice shrieked. I could clearly pick out a string of profane language and swearing, punctuated by smashing of things on the floor and the walls.
A man’s counter-shouting followed. A few seconds later, the wailing of two kids roused from deep sleep added to the noise.
The shouting match that followed isn’t fit for the ears of the general public and requires parental guidance for young audiences.
Here they go again! I know I should get used to the young couple’s brawls next door at the most unearthly hours of the night but I had just fallen asleep. And besides, why would they want the whole world to know that the man caught his wifie with another man in a night club while he himself left their two kids sleeping to go on a till-morning drinking spree with his friends?
I mean the whole neighborhood already knew about that, why do they have to announce it over and over again? I thought angrily.
I covered my ears with my hands and buried my head beneath the covers to shut out the noise, but to no avail. I have an appointment at 10 a.m. and I needed sleep in order not to look like a worn-out rag doll discarded from Sequijor the next day.
Bud judging from the intensity of the shouting match next door, I knew sleep would be next to impossible.
By force of habit, I immediately fumbled for my tape recorder beside the bed and turned it on. ( I had developed the habit of recording the frequent quarrels of this couple in the past few weeks which I planned to play for them when the need arrives, like the need to blackmail…but of course I knew I could never do that.
Glancing at my alarm clock, I was pissed off to know it was only 4:45 in the morning! I had barely slept for a couple of hours.
I’m a night person. I mean I think best in the evening. In the early evening, after the sun has gone down and the world is preparing to turn in, my metabolism is finally moving at top speed and I begin to blend in with the night.
My sweetest sleep would be from 2-9 a.m. While the world is starting to get up, I would be burrowing deep under the covers to get the best sleep. Wake me up at 5 a.m. and you’ll be dealing with the grumpiest being on earth. I’m very unproductive at this time I could hardly remember my middle name. (I’m writing this at 12 midnight and my middle name is Cuaresma).
I’m not even fully awake at 10 yet. Prior to finally getting up would mean several resetting of my alarm clock (I have to put it away from reach or elese I’d grope for it in my sleep and turn it off).
Not wanting to hear more, I turned off my tape recorder and groggily got off the bed. After putting on a pair of jogging pants and a shirt, I headed for the beach, not caring that it’s Times Beach (not ideal for a whiff of fresh morning air I know, but it’s the nearest).
A handful of people were already taking a dip in the sea. I sat on a deserted cottage, thankful that only a few souls are around. (Not enough to stir the pollution yet).
Very soon, the sun started to come out in all its glory, spreading its red, yellow and orange glow on the smooth surface of the sea. It was a wonderful sight, a sight I had almost forgotten.
Fon’t get me wrong, I don’t live in a dungeon and I know the sun rises everyday. It’s just that I very, very seldom see it.
How long ago have I seen the sunrise, I can’t really remember. In fact, I remember seeing only a very few sunrises in my whole life. I’m more acquainted with sunsets. I know sunrise is a sight worth seeing, a symbol of the promise of a new day.
For once, my next-door neighbor’s early morning fracas did something good for me.*