“Daddy? I still long for you, daddy. I’m still waiting for that one tight hug from a father. Oh why did you have to be a seaman, daddy? Your only little girl misses you so much. So does mommy, daddy. When will you come back?”

I remember waking up to a very ill-timed reveille. It was a total change of scenes. I went from missing the arms of my daddy to being this scared, hopeless and little girl. This time, it wasn’t my daddy hugging me; it was the unusual coolness of the breeze which woke me up. November 7th, 2013. At 5 in the morning. The wind came gushing in and out! The windows swiveled back and forth! “Oh daddy, I’m afraid!”. I watched as heavy sheets of metal were carried by the powerful torrent. SSWWWOOOSSH! The water was everywhere! “Go to the bathroom!” a voice exclaimed to me.

It was my mommy: the reason why I believe there is hope. I rushed towards the bathroom, wrapped myself within its four concrete walls. But no! The water still chased me. It was as if we were playing hide-and-seek. I wasn’t safe even in the safest place I thought I would be. Why weren’t we much prepared? Announcements were made regarding this. Mommy we should have listened. We should have had the presentiment that within a frame of time, preparations could have been made. I had these tears and unwell temperament. All my clothes were washed out. All my valuables were destroyed. There was nothing left in my hands, just a little dignity and a few wet clothes I grabbed from my cabinet before it got washed away.

“Mommy, is it done? Will the winds and water still chase us?”. My mommy and I held on a little longer: buying time for safety. Eventually, we got out. The typhoon was over, and so was our township. Tacloban has come to a near-end situation. “Don’t look at the roadsides, Kristel.” my mommy told me. My eyes didn’t see much, but my ears and nose pictured out the very whole story. Were what I smelled bodies of dead people? Were what I heard cries of the hopeless? Everything was in jeopardy. Cleared out. Blank. Dearth.

That very night, we were informed of relief centers at the airport. This was the moment we were waiting for. My mommy and I took a typical bus ride from Tacloban to Surigao. From there, we strolled to a plane headed for Manila then we walked all the way to the airport. Our feet were all tired but nothing could compare to what the typhoon has brought. The dead were along the sides of the road. Plants, humans and animals. Good thing we made it to the relief stations early. If not, we’d be lying down by the roadsides, as well.

“Mommy, the relief goods are here!”. Yes, they were there but it didn’t bring any relief at all. Those officials, those in-charge. Why would they refuse from giving out the relief goods, mommy? This changed the very beat of our disposition. We left with grins. What’s left for us is hope. Little hope.

The malls were emptied. Us? Pretty much emptied but full of sorrow and grief. BANG! Gunshots. I heard gunshots! The inmates have gotten out. Mommy, what will we do? My mommy acted all brave to help me stay on the run. I knew she was scared at that time, also. She gave me this, sort of pat at the back to cheer me up. So I slept with my mommy taking guard.

Several days had passed but there was still no sign of great reinforcement. Luckily, we had neighbors who, in just a very simple way, helped us stay alive for a couple of days. Rice. Cupped noodles. Canned goods. There wasn’t much we could ask for. All houses were brought down. The big and tall buildings which used to loft high in the skies went back to skeletons: conceptual frameworks. The dead bodies became even deader. I could still smell the aura of those people I have used to come in contact with. Now, they’re all just memories. The trees, not only bent but uprooted. Tacloban was slowly being erased in the map. But, I did lose all feelings of anxiety when I saw, just up a certain hill, the statue of Jesus standing strong and staying tough. It must’ve been a symbol of optimism and possibility.

Days and days went on. Still, there was no relief at all. Just unclean water, going through our digestion. “Mommy, when is daddy coming home?”. I had these unanswered questions. I had this terrible concern. It was as if fear was taking hold of me: controlling me. I was desperate. I needed a hug from my daddy.

My mommy and I waited for four long days with no communication. After that, we were able to send a message to my daddy. I miss you, daddy! Please come home. Please help us. Then, another message. Daddy, we love you! Just two messages. We sent two messages and the signal went down. No more reception. So my mommy and I strongly hoped for the best, hoped for the arrival of my daddy. It’s been quite some time since I’ve ever felt the warmth of a father.

Daddy! My daddy did arrive. I ran to him as fast as I could, with tears falling down my coal-black eyes. It was happiness. I forgot about all I have been through the past few days. I got a hug. I got more hugs. My daddy cried. He thought he’d never see us again. Oh daddy, you came back. My mommy and I felt the happiest of feelings.

This is my second life, now. And if there’s anything I have learned from it, it is that situations, be it good or bad, will not take us down. We just have to make use of life in the best way. I couldn’t be much happier than to have a complete family. I couldn’t even decide what to do next. What must be in store for me? Hugs? Even more hugs from a father? Wet clothes? Cupped noodles? Rice? Canned goods? “Who knows, I might be able to use more of these relief goods. I am now a stronger person. I can survive another storm.”