EVANESCENCE

All I can see outside is the giant green wall with trees covering it. They come in various colors, ranging from light green to dark green. I hear crickets chirping loudly; their collective noise pierces through the air. I notice birds flying in all directions after the van honks—it's as if they're fleeing from a terrifying sound, and then back to the trees again. However, above us are large boulders that, if disturbed, might fall. In the unfortunate event of an earthquake or a severe crash against the mountainside, we could be crushed to death.

I ask myself if it is natural to all beauty about the hidden dangers in them. Beauty is only skin-deep, and one must not forget the perils that may lie beneath the surface.

I glance at the other side of the window since there are no passengers sitting there. I remember the time when I once looked at the cliff. My parents had warned me when they were still okay, that it was deep, so I should be careful. I didn’t actually see how deep it was because it was almost entirely covered in trees growing from below. 

Looking at it again from a distance on the road doesn’t feel just like before. The sun shines on the scene, but there aren't as many trees growing from below now. The light from the tall trees almost overarching filters through what's left, making only a few shadows on the road. Guinea grasses sway gently near the horizontal metallic gray barrier that protects vehicles from careening over the cliff edge. There were still a lot of cogon grasses before but it’s hard to spot a single one now. The barriers always seem new. It's because they aren't strong enough. There have been cases where cars, even trucks, crash into them, plummeting over the cliff and becoming entangled in the trees. This is why there's a constant need to replace the barriers.

 

Sometimes, change is not always for the better. One still looks back to a time when everything was fine, hoping that it will remain the same.

 

As the van continues to drive, I spot nipa huts along the mountainside, with some even higher up. They've formed a district there, and what's fascinating is that there are now houses on the cliff's edge. I can see the sunlight reflecting off the tin roofs. Perhaps the land beneath the cliff's edge is gradually rising and falling as I come and go from the area. 
 

Maybe the people living in these areas don’t know the dangers lurking there. I watch them, feeling very concerned about the future adversities, especially for the children. Mountainous terrain is prone to landslides and rockfalls. And knowing that there's a lack of protective barriers, people living beneath the edge of the cliff are likely to be at risk of falls. Should I do something? Half of my brain screams ‘YES,’ but I don’t know what to do. The other half just taps me on the shoulder and says that everything will be alright.
 

The road still feels long, and I want to sleep, but I can't. I haven’t slept for the past two days, just drinking coffee and playing online games alone. I don’t want to sleep too heavily and end up with crumpled clothes. Mother always tells me to keep my clothes neat and tidy. She doesn’t want me to appear unkempt. I check my eyes in the camera of my phone to see if they are too dark and bulging. 
 

I always know that when I get home, they’ll treat me like before. They don’t want to burden me because they are looking forward to me graduating college and starting my own life. I may appear natural when they see me, but they will not know what I’m battling inside. Similarly, as I look at them acting like nothing happened, the only difference is, I know what they are trying to hide. But what I really fear inside, is what my brother is feeling. I don’t know if he knows the situation or not, or he is just trying to keep it inside him. 

 

One of the passengers says that Maragusan gives him tranquility because he feels relaxed from the cold weather, especially when it is hot, unlike in the city. He can travel back and forth everyday. This is why our hometown is hailed as the “Summer Capital of Davao Region.” It attracts tourists seeking relief from the heat. I suppose the coldness is too much that it already affects some of the people’s hearts living there. 
 

At some point, I just want this road to keep extending endlessly. I don't want to return home without a plan or a way to improve the situation. Yet, I'm also scared that if the road is too long, it increases the possibility of us in the van crashing into the mountainside or falling off the cliff.