A Thousand Memories

There’s a distant thunder in the background that caresses the steady Texas rain. The small thuds of water falling on a shingled roof are so much softer than the sheet metal tapping I grew accustomed to in the Philippines. Even the thunder is different: low rumbles across the plains are incomparable to the bullwhips cracking their echos across surrounding mountains. Yes, today is one of those days where I miss Panay.

Fundamental Baptist Church of Sara

Good Times with Good People

It’s certainly not just Panay. I miss my wife. Rain storms often held special moments for us, personal moments of time given and created by God. You can’t watch much TV in the rain as the sound is drowned out and you can forget making that motorcycle trip to town. When it rains, you simply spend time together. How I miss the hours and hours of endlessly falling rains where I was willingly trapped in Jennifer’s company! I retrospect with a great yearning those moments of lying in bed beside her and drifting off to the sounds of rain falling over palm trees.

I need not mull over the ambiguous question of when I’ll see her [in person] again. I see her every night when I sleep and her image abides in my waking thoughts. The distance is less an obstacle and more a journey of time; like all journeys, one step at a time. How can I grow weary staring at this finish line? I keep my eyes on the prize.

Casting glances upon an old photo, I still remember the expressions of her face and the sounds of her voice, details uncaptured by the camera. It’s difficult to describe the greatness of events so subjective to outsiders, the flashes in time that create a thousand stories untold. Then again, some stories can’t be told, they can only be remembered. We are living, breathing monuments of the memories we possess; I stand tall.

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