One Morning

This is that one morning that my family and I would never forget.

Six o'clock is my biological clock's wake up time, and I hardly ever missed it. Aside from our cat scratching the door trying to get in, our dog sniffs low cries asking for bread. I should have finished saying my morning prayers before the pets do this lest I want these sounds to become louder.

I stood up and scooped a handful of kibble for our cat and a piece of that day-old bread for the dog. We sometimes intentionally leave one piece for the dog to chow on the next day.

Normally, my dad will get his swimming bag and set out for his daily morning exercise then comes home with the bread for breakfast. But, not today. Again, normally, he will ask me if I prefer the loaf or the traditional bread. But again, not today. He said that he only have this much left. Only this much to buy a loaf of bread.

Not much.

It's a Friday and hopes are dim for his pension and my salary to be credited to our account. We both felt low but still high in spirits. He said he will just walk his way to the bakery to get the loaf for today's breakfast.

In less than an hour, he was back with two loaves of bread that I knew was way out of the money left. I started to wonder but didn't open my mouth to ask him. I just thought that maybe he went to his friend who lives near the bakery and borrowed some money. I assumed.

We, then, prepared breakfast and while we were waiting for the water to boil, he said, "Do you know what happened to me?"

"What?" I said, feeling a little nervous and trying to hide it.

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Published on Fortitude on August 4, 2010

©Copyright 2010 Clara Baldemor

E. R.

This happened about a few weeks ago.

I visited a friend who is sick. Her husband was sick, too. We were having a good, afternoon conversation, until the time came that the husband asked to be brought to the hospital for severe stomach pain. We went straight to the E.R. of the provincial hospital with a couple of her relatives and house helps. It turned out that one of her relatives met a friend who was at the E.R. at that time. The chit-chat with her co-teacher took a while that we thought of asking her what was that all about.

Later on, here is the story. Co-teacher passed by a mother and her barely-a-month-old daughter hailing for a ride somewhere along an isolated road. Co-teacher took them to the hospital, but while on the way, of course, a short chat took place. We learned that the husband left them for good and that the infant was having difficulty breathing that's why she's taking her to the hospital.

At the hospital, the co-teacher couldn't just leave them. She stayed there; that's the reason why my friend's relative saw her. Co-teacher bought food for the mother, left some money because the infant needs some tests and medicines. But what co-teacher gave wasn't enough. So relative told us the story. She said the infant was such a beautiful girl. She said that she gave Php 100 to the mother. She was teary-eyed while telling the story because her heart goes for the mother and her child. She said that she wanted to give some more, but she has to think of her child, too.

I couldn't get this story out of my mind. Having gone through a medical condition myself, I feel for people like her. It's a good thing though, that there are still good souls out there who are willing to do something for people they don't know no matter how small this may be.

I told this story to a friend because she's been looking for ways on how to give a hand. But I understand that she's being too cautious on who to extend her helping hand. She doesn't want her hard-earned money to go to the wrong hands.

So, I told her, and now I am telling you, that maybe, the best place to go to if you really want to give a hand is the E.R. of a government hospital. There, you will be sure that people really need money. This is the place where people need to go when they do not want to, when they are not prepared to. This is the place where you can be rest-assured that the hand that you're willing to extend will truly make a difference - a difference as much as between life and death.

A Special Kind of Friday

This one of the reasons why it still feels to be home at this time of the year. This is the time to really look inside us and think about those things that happened to us - good and not-so-good. The past two years that I was away, I looked back during those times that I was part of this event. True, there were parts of our life that we spent this time up north, meaning the beaches. But we got over it.

There were also times that we went to the mountains to reflect on everything, too. Lying on the ground up on the mountain, the sea on one side and mountains on another, the stars upon you, you feel small, but overwhelmed in so many ways. I did it for five consecutive years. I had the fear of heights and nothing felt so bad as the first time. And then it was almost gone. After a bad fall at the place they call the Kalbaryo (Calvary), I didn't go the years after. I don't know if it was a bad decision to stop. But even if I want to, Mount Banahaw was closed for about ten years for restoration. I think I will have to find out if it is open again. I feel like I'm missing the mountains, and the feeling of awe in being there, without most of the conveniences.

This year is a very significant year. Having gone through an operation, the sad news of the biopsy, and then the gift of the CT scan result, there is no other reason for going except to thank HIM that I am: Admiring the little things around me, the joy of reading books, the laughter of a sit-com, to feel for other people's sorrows, and much more.