Every Saturday is market day and people are busy. As I was approaching, I saw many people in commotion. I figured they were in negotiation, they always were. But before that I saw a man, an old man. I used to know him back then in a tailoring shop. His figure hasn’t change, I whispered to myself. He still wears a plaster on his face. I once heard that his nose was wiped clean and so he had to cover it to prevent repugnance. His hands were gnarled. Even though I am at a distance, I clearly saw his wrinkled and loose skin. I can’t see his eyes I figured his eyelids were too heavy for him to lift. He had lesser hair than I last saw him. I guess he was going bald. He had no shoes but he wore socks. I guess it was better than nothing.
He was walking with the aid of metal for his support. I figured he was practicing. For every three step he took, he lifted the Zimmer frame and he stepped again for three times. As I look on his face, there was no smile. It only showed remorse. I paused and sat on my knees and said a short prayer.
I hope Lord that before the aged dies they may find contentment for their lives.
Then, I continued to walk. The people in the market were diminishing since it was already sunset. But still there were many people, as far as my fingers were concerned. There were fruits, vegetables and used clothes. After a bit of sightseeing, I was disappointed. I was hoping I could buy something to bring with me home. I decided to go home but taking a different route.
I was kicking rocks, slightly hoping I could get an award for doing it. But before I got the award, I saw a lady. She was in her forties. I remembered her back then because she sold different kinds of kakanin on our school when I was a little kid. She was wearing a long skirt and slightly tattered yellow kamiseta. She had her goods hanged in her right elbow while holding an umbrella. She laid the umbrella on her shoulder like a marching musketeer. Her left hand waved in the air, calling for costumers. I paused and stood on my ground. I bowed and prayed.
I hope Lord that you give success on the efforts of the people who have worked hard.
But this time, I didn’t just walked away. I ran towards her and decided to help her.
“Is there” I asked, panting, “any left?”
She smiled and answered, “Yes, there is”.
“How many,” I inquired while bending over my knees, catching my breath.
She opened the basket and mouthed numbers while counting. She finally said, “Three”
“I’ll take it.” I handed the money. As I received the goods, it felt good, like receiving an award, an outstanding award.
On the curb I saw some teenagers. They had grown up. Last time I saw them they were playing in dirt and chasing butterflies. They were even taller than me now. I glanced on my left and I saw a boy. He was short haired, tanned brown and skinny. He had pimples. I remembered this boy. Then I said I prayer.
I hope Lord I’ll stay the same and if by chance I do change please make it for the better.
Then I walked home.
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