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