The Mornings of my Summer

I decided to study for the summer so I can earn more units in my Masters. This plan meant I had to stay in Iligan during the weekdays and it was  the first time I was not under my mother's care for a long time. The first week was very tough not only because that subjects I enrolled in were really hard but also because no one would cook for me, wash my clothes, and arrange my things.

 

Every morning was a struggle for me. I had sleepless nights because of my readings, reports, and assignments and so I would wake up lazily every morning wishing I could just collapse in the bed and sleep more. As I walk to the bathroom, I would hear my tummy demanding for breakfast but I can only eat when I get to Mcdonalds. Sometimes my head would ache because of this morning hunger. After leaving my cousin's house, I would take my breakfast and be irritated because I am going to be late in my class again. I'd see to it that I only eat for five minutes and after eating, I would scan my notes trying to recall everything I read. While scanning my notes, I would feel my tummy ache either because I have been hungry for an hour already or because I ate my breakfast too fast. Seeing that I am already fifteen minutes late from my class, I would stand up and carry my very heavy back pack ( my cousin  calls me Dora because of it)  and ride a jeepney going to IIT. Inside the jeepney I would feel--tired, depressed, and sometimes helpless. I know this is just an ordinary experience to many but you have to understand that a pampered person like me who has never been away from home find this situation really difficult. Yes, it is a difficult situation and that difficulty would often lead me to thinking--if I had been rich  kid, I wouldn't be doing this. I even tell myself that I am so sick and tired of "sacrificing for a better future" . I wish things were easier...

 

" diri lang kuya" I would tell the driver and look for coins in my wallet. Seeing that I am running out of money makes me disappointed because my almost empty wallet reminds me of  my late salary.

 

I would climb the stairs and cross the overpass. And there, I'd see him. A man perhaps in his early fifties, sitting in front of his little box of pens. He sits there waiting for anyone who would buy one of his old pens. As I pass by, he greets me " good morning"  and smiles. I cannot comprehend how he makes a living out that little box of pens and I am most curious how could he smile so serenely to think that if no one buys his pen, he would starve. But no, he looks at every passerby, greets them good morning and smile like its a very beautiful day.

After crossing the overpass, I would go down the stairs and hear the old man playing his musical  instrument( I honestly do not know what is the name of it). He sits there with his worn out dirty clothes and his hat on the ground. Something is also wrong with his eyes  which I cannot dare describe. Upon seeing him, my heart would drop and I'd fish coins in my wallet, pockets, and every corner of my bag. I'd give to him not minding how many they are. Once I drop the coins in his hat, he would stop playing, look at me and smile. My heart would crush.

 

Before I can recover, I would pass by another man who is younger than the two. He also carries a bag pack like me. Mine is a white Jansport and his is a small faded tattered old bag. He sits under a post patiently waiting for anyone to buy one of  his penny bank made of bamboo. I can imagine how heavy they are when he carries them all. He looks at every passerby probably wishing one of them will buy his bamboo penny bank. Once, I saw him at 9:30 in the morning hungrily eating squid rolls. Maybe it was his breakfast, only that--squid rolls.

 

 

I'd walk away with my heart pounded with guilt and shame.

I'd sit in my class trying to suppress tears.

And I'd repeatedly ask God's forgiveness. 

 

 

 

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