CNF Writing Exercise: Exercise on Rhetorical Techniques

Much of my childhood was spent under the sun’s heat, and a giant Sampaloc tree at the edge of the vacant lot was the only source of solace. But as kids, we didn’t really care about the heat.

Some people say that money could actually buy happiness. It bought food, clean water, and shelter — it bought security that translates to happiness. For us kids, however, happiness was as simple as running out of the house at 9 am to play with neighbors. It was as simple as asking Tatay for piso to buy a little yellow, sugary candy we called “lemon” from Ate Beth across the narrow eskenita. Happiness was making Santan bracelets and crowns under the Sampaloc tree. It was being able to regain your balance when you almost slipped because of the sand that made the ground tricky to run on. Happiness was winning at sikyo and making the other team do icky dares. It came in the form of collecting bugs and having most of those orange bugs with black spots you get from the weeds that grew in the vacant lot. Happiness was avoiding all the bangbangs as we rode our bikes up and down the slanted street, racing from end to end. Happiness was reaching a new part of the barangay because we got too carried away playing bang-sak. It was buying bubble gum that came with temporary tattoos and pasting the tattoo on the steel door beside the lot, the neighborhood’s growing collection of temporary tattoos. We were most proud of that. Happiness was telling scary stories as the sun started to hide, and everything slowly turned dim. Happiness lasted until we heard Inay’s patpat and loud shouts calling us home. But, the best thing was that happiness would be there again at 9 am tomorrow when Mommy goes to work, and we’re free to start happiness all over again.