I went outside with my coffee this morning. The air felt heavy and warm. It was barely seven.
I am from Samar, and I remember mornings that were cool before. The kind where the air had the smell of grass and you never wanted to get back inside the house. My friends and I would climb trees after school and sit up there for ages without anyone caring if we got back home. At night, the moon was so bright that we used to keep playing outside until past our bedtime, with the barangay almost being brighter than streetlights because of all the moonlight shining around.
It never occurred to me to be thankful for any of it. For some reason, it seemed perfectly natural.
But now that I live in Laguna, I realize how differently my new surroundings feel. All the cool air that used to surround me every morning is nowhere to be seen, and it takes me much longer to start feeling its absence now. The trees I used to spend my time in are not around anymore, and the streets are brighter because of all the streetlights, and even the screens and none of it feels the same as that moonlight we used to play under.
And the summers just do not end anymore. That is the part that gets me. It used to be a season. Now it just stays.
Temperatures in the Philippines have already risen by roughly 1.4°C compared to the mid-20th century, and heatwaves are becoming more frequent. I read stuff like that and I think about those trees in Samar. That cool morning air. How I took all of it completely for granted.
I just miss it. That is really all this is. I miss the version of home that felt generous with its shade and its cool nights and its clean air. And I think that missing it means something, even if I am still figuring out what to do about it.
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