The rainstorm that night

I was standing on a street curb one evening and it was dark, with only orange light from lampposts for illumination. The sky was a big, dark empty basin and hanging there was God’s fingernail – the thin, white arc of the crescent moon that night. I observed as lightning happened against the dark of the mysterious and deep nightsky, making illuminations in short, thrilling bursts, and I smiled to myself, remembering Kuya Nikki and how I had likened him once to a rainstorm. And I stood there, watching the lightning strikes, and it occurred to me that that’s like Kuya Nikki. He’s better than fireworks.

I hope he knows he’s better than fireworks. :)


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