I can hardly hear myself

Christmas vacation has started, and I find myself restless.

Last night, I had difficulty sleeping, watching shadows play on the unfinished wall in Tita Maricar's room, shifting from side to side and stubbornly refusing a blanket. Blankets at night are rare for me.

Slowly breaking through the daylight -- Coldplay is literally blasting in my ears, a little piece of Jay without his selfishness in my ears, and Russ's company while he's not here, laughing and thinking with me.

Songs and artists pass through me like light, something you take in without minding the science behind it. That's me. Not your typical music lover. The names and titles do not stay, just their rhythms and their stories.

Yesterday, I read a book with the headphones on, an alternation of a woman's voice saying, "I will not let them ruin me," and an instrumental that sounds straight from the big screen, the soundtrack of an epic film.

Lines from songs, lines from the book - they all come washing down on me, and I take them in, my mind rebelling from the deliberate drowning.

A swim. This is it. An unlikely vacation away from the crowded house.

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