Through the weather

THROUGH THE WEATHER This all began one late morning in the mountains. I was at the hillside, carrying a bucket full of water I had drawn from the bottom of the hill—a routine familiar to many in rural parts of the provence. The sun was rising, casting a golden hue over the trees. As I walked home through the narrow trail, I noticed a massive stone behind a tree filled with thick branches, stirring a strange curiosity in me. I climbed onto the stone, trying to get a better view of the land below. But just as I stood tall, something unreal happened—the world stopped moving. The leaves that had been falling from the tree froze mid-air. The waving grass, the flying birds, even the smallest specks of dust… all motionless. It was as if time had paused. I reached out and tried to touch one of the leaves, suspended in the air. Just then, a single drop of water fell onto my hand. I gasped. “Where did that come from?” I thought. The sun was up—there were no signs of rain. Suddenly, a weak voice called out in the distance, snapping me from the moment. Startled, I lost my balance and slipped from the stone. I rolled down the hillside, pain and shock blending into one strange blur. When I came to, the motionless world had disappeared. In its place was a sky heavy with extravagant clouds and a thousand raindrops pouring onto the ground. Thunder rolled. Lightning cracked across the sky like falling stars. Despite the chaos, I stood there… frozen, letting the cold water kiss my cheeks. That’s when I heard it—a strange, soft voice through the storm. I turned, but before I could find it, lightning struck near the hilltop. “Rain…” I screamed. I gasped for breath. And then—light. The sound of a door slamming against the wall pulled me back. I opened my eyes to see sunlight pouring in through the window. “Wake up, sis! The sun’s already up!” Maya shouted, her brows furrowed in frustration. She slammed the door and left without waiting for my reply. Still dazed, I blinked. That dream… it lingered. “Sis!!” she yelled again from downstairs. I rushed to shower, changed quickly, and ran down. “You want eggs, Granny?” Maya asked cheerfully. “No thanks, dear…” our Lola replied, her voice soft and kind. “I’ll cook tomorrow, promise.” “If I didn’t wake you up, you’d still be dreaming right now!” Maya teased me. Our Lola chimed in from the dining table, “They said on the news, the dry season will be longer this year. Don’t forget to bring water with you both, okay?” “Yes, Granny. Promise,” we said in unison. “Did you know?” Maya added, “One of my classmates collapsed yesterday from the heat.” Granny’s face turned worried. “Be careful.” “I have to go now. Love you, Granny!” Maya waved. “Take care!” Lola replied. I followed close behind, stepping out into the sunlight. In the distance, I could see Maya running toward her group of friends, their laughter ringing through the quiet morning. Kring... Kring… Peep! “Hey, Mayu!” I turned to see Sayaka and Teshi, my best friends, riding a bicycle toward me. “Get down, Sayaka! You’re so heavy!” Teshi complained, half-laughing. “No, I’m not!” she snapped back playfully. We slapped hands in greeting. As we continued down the road, we came across a crowd of people arguing near the barangay hall. As we got closer, we realized they were debating over local issues. “I promise you,” said one man passionately, “my team will make life easier for our farmers. They’ve been suffering because of this dry season. We’ll make the impossible possible!” Someone whispered, “Election’s coming, that’s why he’s talking like that…” We moved past the commotion, but someone shouted behind me, “Hey, Mayu! Fix your clothes. You don’t dress like a girl!” I froze. Another voice laughed, “Still being scolded by your father in public, huh? At your age?” The crowd laughed. Whispers followed. “Poor kid. Even her father shames her in front of people…” I couldn’t move. All I wanted was to disappear. Sayaka gently tapped my back—her quiet way of reminding me, I’m here. I took a deep breath… and walked away. In front of everyone… he shouted at me like I wasn’t even his child. I kept my head down. My cheeks were burning—partly from the heat, but mostly from shame. I heard the voices around me, the whispers, the laughter, the judgment. Sayaka gently tapped my back, her hand warm and steady. “Seriously…” he muttered close to my ear, “It’s like he doesn’t even see you as his daughter. Are you really his child? The way he speaks to you… like you’re nothing.” “Teshi!” Sayaka snapped at him before he could say more. “Okay, okay. Sorry,” he mumbled. “But still…” Sayaka glared at him, annoyed. I reached out and held her hand. “It’s okay. Let’s stop talking about it. The heat’s already too much. We shouldn’t let our tempers match the weather.” We kept walking under the scorching sun. The road ahead shimmered like glass, heat waves rising from the pavement. Dust clung to our legs, and every step felt heavier than the last. “Have you seen the stream near our place?” Teshi asked. “It’s dry. Not even a puddle left.” “Same here,” Sayaka replied. “The creek’s all cracked. The fish are gone. It’s like the land gave up.” I bit my lower lip. “Even the trees look tired.” The cicadas screamed from the trees, their sharp cries slicing through the silence. My sweat dripped slowly from my jaw. The fabric of my uniform clung to my back. I looked at my friends and saw it on their faces too—exhaustion. “Everything feels tired,” Teshi said. “The people, the animals… even the soil.” Sayaka kicked a rock into the dried weeds. “And still no rain. Not even clouds.” I looked toward the rice fields in the distance. Wide, open, aching. The cracks in the earth looked like scars, deep and jagged. Farmers stood under thin hats, wiping their faces, staring at the sky like they were praying. “When will it rain?” I whispered to myself. There was no answer. Only the rustling of dry leaves, and the sound of sandals dragging across a dusty road.