Published by: Mherry Vhine Macalalag
Date Published: October 15, 2025
Time Published: 10:14 AM
Category: Prose
Theme: Strength is shelter in life’s storms.
I sat silently beneath the surface of the earth, waiting for our school bus to stop by. There, I saw a bright yellow umbrella. It waits by the door of our house, just a folded shape of fabric and steel, leaning patiently, asking for nothing. But when the rain begins to fall and the sky darkens, our hands reach for it without hesitation. The umbrella doesn’t ask where it’s going. It simply opens.
There’s something noble in the way it stretches its fabric wide against the storm, shielding without complaint, bearing the brunt of wind and water so the one beneath it may walk a little lighter. It does not stop the rain. It doesn’t chase away the clouds. It doesn't fight against the storm. Instead, it offers what it can— a small circle of calm in the middle of chaos.
And that is its quiet lesson: you cannot control the storm, but you can choose how you carry yourself through it.
The umbrella serves as a reminder that protection doesn't need to be always loud; it can be a silent or a gentle reminder to keep going, one dry step at a time. It teaches that sometimes being strong means bending with the wind rather than fighting it.
When the rain passes, it is folded and set aside again, without praise or ceremony. Yet it is always ready—humble, worn, but dependable.
And maybe, just maybe, we’re meant to live a little like that too.
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