Soft City Life

I call it the “vast second,” when a split second feels like it’s been stretched for longer. It happens during very rare moments. When you’re fully present and in awe. That noticeable stretch of time started with a single piece of fruit.

One day, I was at our head office where a vendor from the islands came to the city to present his products– tea grown directly from Kenya. But he also had a fig tree in his backyard, so he brought a box for us to try.

I have never had fresh figs in my life. They often came dried, or in jams–the only way I’ve tried them, whether on my toast or a charcuterie board. So you could imagine my surprise when I bit into a freshly picked green fig and felt its soft, juicy flesh part as I took a bite.

There I was, sitting in the conference room with a bitten fig in my hand. It felt like the camera had zoomed out and I was alone in my pure awe, staring at the juicy pink flesh I had just bit into. Except, Fern was right beside me, munching on figs and exclaiming how it was her favourite. My cinematic moment was over. But the fig? It was cool, soft, and sweet. I became obsessed. Fern’s chatter faded into the background. I focused on where I could find fresh figs in the city. It was the most pressing matter of my foreseeable future.

After the conference, I took a bus to the closest Walmart to buy a Magic Bullet blender. It had become my habit to peruse the flyers that came in the mail. I became convinced my life would change significantly if I owned a portable blender. When I got to the grocery store, it was sold out. I ended up picking a few items on rollback. A box of dry rack ribs, brie cheese, cold cuts.

I stepped out of the store just as it started to rain and wondered if I should book an Uber or just walk to the train station. While standing there, figuring out a decision, but also simultaneously ordering my Magic bullet online, I caught a whiff of the scent of rain on dry earth. Petrichor.

I was in awe for the second time that day. The smell was the same growing up in the Philippines. I was within the “vast second” again. I stood transfixed as the memories of my 12th summer came flooding back.

There were days when the heavy summer rains would pour and I had to run home, drenched after soccer practice. There were afternoons when I stayed home watching music videos on Channel V Asia. The sound of thunder and lashing rain accompanying my favourite Japanese songs at the time, LIV’s Try and the Brilliant Green’s Forever to Me.

I snap out of the vast second and come back to where I stand. I decide to walk a few metres to the train station despite the rain.

A couple of weeks later, while browsing on my Instagram feed, I saw a comic drawn by my former editor. It was about her father sitting on a chair, when he suddenly and very randomly asked everyone in the room if they had ever tried figs freshly plucked from a tree. The next day, as I was grabbing a box of figs for me to take home, my co-worker exclaimed he had tried fresh figs for the first time a few days ago.

“They don’t grow in the east (Eastern Canada,) it was my first time having them fresh! I didn’t know they were so good.” Right then, looking at his face, I felt validated. It’s true. Fresh figs were life-changing.

When I found out that our store carried them, I started buying as often as I could while they were currently in season. In a way, I’ve started paying more attention to what’s present.

Whether that’s a fruit or what I have in life, the seconds stretch and I savour the moment.