At the Other Side of the Window

SQUEEEEAA!

The plush frog toy is squeezed between two small hands, sweaty and weak, as they apply a futile pressure against the furry object. The car stereo kept on playing music with words he is either too young to understand or to know. He tuned out the noise, too busy staring at the cloudless afternoon sky. The little boy pressed his chubby cheek against the heated window and sighed. With his naive imagination keeping him occupied to remain patient, he tried to mold the boundless blue into different forms.

"An ocean." But in the heavens.

".....gas fire..?" But burning in calming blue, bluer.

"Hm. Butterfly." But bigger. Its life longer than his short fingers. 

The boy thinks they were what he thought, but he's not old enough to even know such words. He abruptly tears the images in his mind as his beady eyes squinted. The sun is high above, like a king--or a god--looking down in immense anger. Its presence mocks the sky that reaches no end. Since it can't contain itself in the heavens, it threatened the ground with fire. Windows and cars reflected the glare of the upset being that can't get enough attention. 

He breathes in and exhales loudly.

It reminds him of a man long gone and which face he no longer remember. His uncle is the sun, and a person he hated and feared. He remembered the nights he jumps awake to hear the man screams profound words. He wished he understands them. He always watches behind half-opened doors and sees his father on the ground. He always wanted to run by his side, but his mother is there. He wanted to ask why she's only standing there. It always ends with his uncle leaving the abused living room, passing by him from behind the door. A heavy odor always follows the man's uneasy steps, and his mother clings by his side. 

His uncle is the sun who always demands more.

He looks back at the sky, away from the raging sun. The blue that always seems to drag him away to a better place. 

"Ah. Happiness? Fami...." His raspy voice echoed in his ears. The dryness of his throat didn't seem to bother him as he imagines happier times in those blue. He wanted to know what happened. He noticed that his mother never came back after going out with his uncle that one night. It always happens, but she always returns. His father sat on one of the dining chairs when he asked about his mother's absence. Bony fingers picked him up and settled him on his father's lap. They both stared at each other in the eye, him with curiosity and the other with exhaustion. His father smiled, brought his hand to ruffle his fluffy curls, and laughed. The little boy never understood why his father hugged him that day, but he remembered the shaky limbs that wrapped around his tiny frame. 

Sweat started rolling down his face or was it tears. 

SQUEEAAA!

He squeezed the toy one more time. It was a present he received from his mother in one warm Christmas. However, the snow that seems to hold that happiness melted away by one grumpy sun. It was hard to express the excruciating pain in his chest, and he thought it's because he was sick. Or is it because of the heat?

Slowly, the little boy moved to the other side of the car seat. He was no longer under the direct sun rays, but it was still hot. His tiny hands immediately grabbed the bottle of water in his bag, lying near his dangling feet. It's a good thing he always reminds his father to give him some food supply for his insatiable appetite. Once again, he shoved his hand in his bag and reached out for a pack of chocolate-coated cookies. It didn't take long for him to realize that the chocolate melted inside its package when he felt it in his fingers. He didn't mind, and there's always next time for a better cookie. 

While shifting against the uncomfortable seat, the excruciating pain now traveled to his head. He felt dizzy and promptly slump himself deeper into his position. He is scared. 

Picking himself up together, he drinks from his water bottle and starts shoving sweets to his mouth. He continued drinking water, deciding to stop himself from drowning in too much sugar when he is just supposed to wait for a while. Squinting at the dashboard in front, he wondered how much time has passed. Fortunately, the pain he felt has become less insufferable, and he can entertain himself one more time. He knows its more of a musing of what could have been.

In the middle of his pondering, fingers tracing images on his thighs, he suddenly heard a distant sound of a siren. He lifted his head, eyes looking beyond the windshield. The sound grew louder, and cars made way for a passing flurry of white. His eyes caught the trail of blue and red lights before it eventually disappeared, the sound vanishing in a sea of louder noise. He remembered that same vehicle stacked under his bed with the rest of his toys and the familiar letters engraved on its side. He recalled when his mother told him that those sorts of vehicles carry a person in an emergency, in immense need of medical care. He wonders, don't everyone needed care? Does it matter if it's medical or not?

Is it wrong that he understands nothing? He scratches his arm, his back, and his leg. Why was his uncle always shouting? His heart and mind started pounding fast, faster. Why was his mother no longer in the kitchen as he woke up? Wetness trickle down his face, and his hair stuck to his forehead.

Keeping all the questions to himself, he waits.

Blankly staring at the sky, every possible sound he can hear started drowning the loud beating of his heart. The stereo, the distant car horns, the shouts, the stereo, and more. Where is he?

"--a truck has run over a civilian at the crossing in--"

'Wait, I'll be back in a minute' was what his father said, kissing him in the forehead before stepping out of the car. Ever since his mother never returned, his father was the one starting to look out for him. Despite the growing darkness and wrinkles in his face, he remembers the night they always talk and his father answering the questions of his naive curiosity. He found himself always feeling a bit lighter, maybe even happier.

He tried to blink the blurriness in his vision, the blue color barely recognizable. "Dad." He whispered. Finally, he knew of a word that perfectly matches the cloudless afternoon sky. He closed his eyes, trying to unclothe the heat that tries to suffocate him at the edge of drowsiness. Has it been an hour already?