Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Boiling Waters PH.
I’ve always seen you as the stoic guardian of the path I could never cross, and for each day I passed by is another that you denied me entry. After all, you are the gatekeeper who stands between me and a place I’m not allowed to see.
Without fail, you stayed in your spot through each passing season. Occasionally, you’d pull out your trusty black umbrella whenever the sunlight hits your eyes a little too much or when the rain pours more than you can bear. Sometimes, you’d even wear the puffy coat you probably had since your first winter in the job, slightly worn but still fits you well nonetheless.
But seeing you just as autumn begins will always be my favorite. The orange tint of the world makes you all the more mesmerizing, especially when you started adding a little smile whenever I asked you if I could enter. To be honest, there came a point when I started passing by the path you’re guarding not to try to get in, but to see you and have another one of the little exchanges we unconsciously started sharing.
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Looking back, It’s sad how I never got more than just a thousand denials and even fewer waves and smiles from you. It’s been years since I last passed by the gate you kept but I still like to imagine that there are times when you still see me among the hordes of people who pass by you every day.
I like to think that you cherished those moments as much as I did. That you knew that you were the gatekeeper, and your job was to deny people entry. Including me. I like to think that over time, as with my reason to come by changed, your job did as well. I wish you started to think of it as going to work every day to deny me entry instead. And deny me entry the next day again. and again. and again.
I know that this may be wishful thinking but, I like to think that when you reached for the sleeve of my shirt as I was leaving on the day I told you that it would be the last time I’ll be visiting, I like to think that you wanted to come with me then.
You were the stoic gatekeeper who guarded a path I was never destined to pass. But, maybe, just maybe, the road leading back to your gate may just be the one I should take next.
