05/10/2022
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=461260786032190&id=100064448181184
❤️👩🏻🏫👨🏻🏫🧑🏻🏫
Happy Teachers’ Day
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The Road We Have Taken
It was a Monday morning.
I was forced to walk on a hot asphalt road with no shoes but only enough determination that I could surpass the four seasons.
One step forward, my feet were already burning from the hot sidewalk. I could do nothing but hope that I could get used to the heat as the soles of my feet began to blister. I had already thought of returning to my parents and crying like a little child, for I am one, but then you came. You looked at me with the most serene face and wiped my tears.
You gave me your shoes.
It was big.
I wanted to cry again, for nothing seemed to ever fit. But you drew two stickmen on the pavement, and as a child with shallow happiness, that made me giggle a little bit.
Days passed, and several kilometers were traveled.
It was autumn when things started to fall apart.
It was the best of times, but the worst of times. I met people who became the reasons for my grandest happiness but also the causes of my deepest pain. I had already thought of running away, for I could no longer bear the struggle of the sudden transition from summer to autumn, but then you stayed. You looked at me as if you already knew it would happen.
You gave me your scarf.
It was comforting.
I did not know if you wanted me to put it around my neck to protect me from seasonal colds or if you saw my wound. But one thing was for sure, it healed something. Outside and within, it prevented the falling leaves from cutting me open.
Time had passed, and it was winter.
The sudden decrease in the number of people walking in the streets was evident. Some gave up, some rested and never walked again, and some expired.
I could feel the distance between us expand like the cosmos in space. I knew you were getting weak. I knew you were struggling, but you did not utter a single complaint. Instead, despite the piercing wind brought by winter, you gave me your jacket.
This time, I refused to accept it. I was no longer blinded by selfishness and self-centeredness. I could now clearly see your struggles—your feet filled with blisters, your frail body dressed up with wounds, and your hands masked with scars. I wanted to embellish each laceration with leaves, plaster on some heathers, and shower them with the purest water to let every sacrifice wash down the drain.
But you saw me chilling, rubbing my hands profusely for heat. I almost froze to death, and right before I had already thought of ending my journey, you appeared.
You greeted me with a gentle smile and gave me your jacket I once refused to accept because of guilt.
It was cordial.
It was warm.
It was home.
In a matter of days, there spring season came.
I expected that you would no longer give me anything, for you had already clothed me with everything—I have my shoe, scarf, and jacket, my hopes, dreams, and courage to take the road that really has no destination nor end.
I had already thought of stopping and calling it quits, but you handed me a piece of chalk. Though an odd thing to accept amid spring, the chalk awakened the inner child in me. With a piece of chalk, I could sketch anything anywhere—I could be anyone anytime. But instead of being too ambitious, I simply drew two circles as our head with five sticks as our body, hand, and feet—two stickmen under the sun on a steaming pavement.
It was silly.
It was magical.
It was nostalgic.
As the chalk crumbled, I dissipated into nothingness. I gazed around my surroundings, and I saw no one and nothing. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go back, not to change things but to feel a couple of things twice. I turned my back, and the gentle breeze of spring gave me a warm embrace. It brought calmness that only you could make me feel.
I saw a familiar figure and ran towards it.
I knew it was you.
Barefoot and lost, I gave back the shoes.
WRITER: TRISHA G. ESPIRITU
(NSPC 2020 QUALIFIER, RSPC 2019 3RD PLACE COPYREADING AND HEADLINE WRITING, ASSOC. EDITOR "THE IBANIAN")
GRAPHIC ARTIST: JOHN MARVEL BONIFACIO
(CHIEF CARTOONIST "THE IBANIAN")
