I was lying on a thick branch, watching the blue sky through the leaves, when a star suddenly shone. I had never seen a star on a morning before, only the moon. I went down and stood on an open area to better see the morning star. It was so beautiful I stood there, head up, for about half an hour. I only looked down and started going home when I heard a thunder from afar. The storm was coming.
My father was dying and my mother blamed me for it. She said he worried so much when I didn't go home for a year. But everyone knew he was dying because he smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I guess someone's always got to blame someone for something wrong. You can't punish and kick and kill a cigarette for giving someone a lung disease. So it was me who had to be blamed and, guess what, it was me who had to be there in his last days. So unfair.
The hot summer was just beginning when I arrived home. The house was so quiet. Nobody was there to welcome me. My mother was probably out somewhere. I have an older brother but he never came back home since he got married and transferred to another island. He was gone for six years and I think he had no plan going home even when he received the message about my father's health. He never cared for anyone else but himself.
It was nine in the morning. I think my mother went downtown to buy some meat for lunch. She said we'd visit father after lunch. An hour passed, still no human in sight. So I left my baggage on the table and walked out of the house. If there's a place that could make me happy no matter what, it was my grandpa's farm, where my favorite pili tree was. I hope it's still there.