I've always had such respect for the sea. I love its beaches and make sure to pay homage to its beauty as much as I can. I embrace its calm and the gentle breaking of its waves.
I've also feared the sea. I've seen its power in the form of 12-foot walls of rampaging waves during typhoons. Yes, some sick part of me wanted to see how the gentle seas could be deadly.
Along the bay of Baler, when I was younger, I used to escape my aunt's watchful eyes and join a few high school friends go to the beaches of Sabang whenever a tropical depression is about to pass by. Twisted. I used to think we were so brave, coming as close to nature's fury as anybody could. Foolish perhaps, but brave enough in the mind of a 15-year old whose one form of rebellion is to go against anything his parents say is good for him.
Well, they were right in the first place.
Ever got caught in the middle of a storm, when all you can do is hang on to anything that could get you safely anchored to the shore?
I feel like I am fifteen again. Right in the middle of it all, hearing nothing but the nearby growl of giant waves breaking, of thunder howling. Seeing nothing but the swirl of the wind with the mists from the sea, tasting nothing but the salt in the air. I am hanging on for dear life.
This time, it will take more than false courage and rebellious spirit to see this through.
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