Fighting to Live

My visit to Sausalito is unexpected, like intense rain in the middle of summer, but the city is gorgeous as always, even the weekend after Christmas: unusually quiet downtown, empty cafes serving freshly-baked bagels, and weary bikers patiently lugging their gears. I want to show Ivy — my high school classmate who flew in from Virginia — this beautiful town located just right off Golden Gate. When you live in a beautiful place like the Bay Area, you like to show off the best parts of it. I didn’t do the same while living in Manila. Don’t ask me why.

While strolling along the legendary jetty, a familiar face emerges. This time it is thinner, more wrinkled and greased, like a cacao pod dipped in lard, almost unrecognizable. A few steps from him is his dog wearing a holiday hat. Its waiflike, feeble body rests on dirt, a signal of loneliness, of defeat. I ask myself: are these the same twosome who entertained and made people smile?

I remember taking a picture of this duo in September last year during our family visit to Sausalito. The streets were jovial as the accordionist serenaded everybody and the man, with only the guitar as his most-prized possession, put shades on his mammal friend, held his limbs with both hands and pretended to strum some off-key notes. A puppy channeling Led Zeppelin. How cute, I should drop a dollar.

It was a crowd drawer, I remember. The man had a great day. Thanks to the dog, and to the accordionist who didn’t bother collecting her talent fee. For that short-lived show alone, the man got a hatful of crumpled dollars, around 50, I think.

Fast forward, the infamous duo battle the cold San Francisco weather. I wear a cardigan layered with a thick shawI yet I still curse a blue streak when the wind blows my hair. The man doesn’t have anything to cover himself except soiled clothes and the dog, his fur and his holiday hat. I don’t know how they survived the cold especially on nights when we count on our heater to warm us up ’til dawn.

I think if all you have is life, all you do is fight to live — that’s why they’re still there: alive and kicking on a cold winter day.