by Mariegold E. Jabla

Sunflowers will always face the sun; we all know that, but no one talks about what happens to them at noon, the least glamorous time of the day to take photos of this happy flower. People rave about how the yellow petals make them smile, but no one – literally no one – would strike a conversation and say, “I like looking at sunflowers at noon.”

This is because sunflowers under the heat of the sun when it burns the hottest are struggling creatures, craning their necks at 90 degrees, facing the heat of the same sun that bathes them with soft light during cool early mornings, the same warm light that would cast them with a golden glow when the sun is setting in the horizon.

People would strike a pose at a sunflower field looking stylish and happy with their Karagumoy nga kalo and move on. Pretty and happy always look good in social media. No one looks back to see the fields when the sun is beating directly overhead because it isn’t a pretty sight. Our tendency as humans is to avert our gaze from something that doesn’t look good but, more often than not, that is our reality.

The sun would burn your skin and it will sting, little beads of sweat will form around your forehead and upper lip, tiny bristles of the stalk and leaves will make you itch, and the world will smell of dying leaves … but when you do watch them, there is a certain calm and peace to be found in a field of sunflowers with no tourists who want to have their photos taken. It’s just you on a bench, your head on someone else’s lap, under the shade of a sad- looking pine tree, both enjoying the imperfection around – and that, in itself, is perfect.

If sunflowers would stare at the sun, have their photos taken, and immediately look away after, would we still think of them as the happiest flowers? Maybe they endure because eventually, it, too, shall pass. Maybe we should try to be like the sunflowers; stay put, and stand our ground no matter the heat – no matter the number of people thinning away as the sun climbs to mid-day and bask in the beauty of surviving another day.

I once dreamed of traversing the six-laned highways of Tupi, South Cotabato with my hand tightly wrapped around someone else’s hand or his arm wrapped around my shoulder in silent comfort, but I guess this trip became my sunflower at noon, a scene so difficult to look at, to confront, but once conquered, feels like the completion of a journey, realizing that it is time for the sun to set and for you to bask in its warmth in complete surrender.

This particular trip took me back to a lot of memories that should have been buried deep, a hundred thousand’s worth of tears, bittersweet and heavy. There was lane after lane of beautiful recollections of a love once held in my hand, but because the longer I held on to it, the more pieces broke off from who I am, it had to set it free. I feel no regret, no anger, just the absolute acceptance of something that was so beautiful but eventually had to come to its end.

I didn’t stop looking for love; I couldn’t – Not when I am bathed with the possibility of all that I can give and the beauty of the lessons from the love that I was able to give. I may not find another you, and I may never get to hold you again, but the lingering lessons that I have learned before, during, and perhaps after I stop loving you are enough to turn me into a brave sunflower, standing proud under the heat of the glaring sun, even at noon.