It was near midday; I was driving late and haven't had my breakfast.
It had been a few weeks already since I wanted to buy round rags for the car. I just didn't have the right timing. But today, I was lucky to stop at the red light.
There was a boy selling rags.
The jeepney that just stopped below the stoplight bought a bunch, but the sedan in front of me ignored the boy peering into the driver's window.
I was looking at the stoplight, hoping it wouldn't turn green anytime soon. I looked at the boy, waiting for him to meet my eyes. As soon as we had eye contact, I raised my hand at the windshield, signaling him to come over.
He excitedly ran back to the center island, got a bunch of rags from his plastic bag, and went to my side. I rolled the windows down.
He was a poor boy around the age of eight but with a clean face, wearing rugged and dirty clothes. I noticed he has cleft lip and palate.
I saw his eyes widen. I'm not sure if he was shocked to see a small woman driving an SUV, or his eyes brightened with high hopes. In his left hand, he was holding five pieces of white rags. On the right, there were five pieces of colored ones.
"Magkano ba yan?" I asked him.
"Lima po," he answered politely.
I pointed at the colored rugs. "Yan na lang."
He stretched out his right arm into the open car window, I took the rags, and I gave him a five-peso coin.
He beamed at me despite his facial deformity and while raising his left hand with the white rags, he proudly said, "Dalawa na lang, makakauwi na 'ko. Hehe!"
I was so speechless that I haven't even got the chance to thank him.
I smiled back at him, tears welling up in my eyes, and noticed the sedan moving forward. The stoplight had turned green already.
The happy boy stepped back, I rolled the windows up, and I moved forward. In the rearview mirror, I saw him going back to his spot at the center island.
I drove on, still teary-eyed, thinking about the joy in the boy's face while he declared that after selling two more bunches of rags, he can go home already.
I realized that he was not like those annoying and arrogant street kids who would keep on knocking at your window, would run after you even on a green light, and would put dirt on your car if you ignore the things they sell.
The boy that sold me the five colored rags this morning was more calm and composed; clean and contented; neat and nice. He showed genuine smiles despite his condition -- the cleft lip and palate plus the dirty clothes.
I compared myself to him.
He was happy with his job; looking forward to selling two more bunches of rags before going home. I am not-so-happy with my job; looking forward to finishing two more hours before going home.
He was patiently working; not complaining about the heat or the possibility of not being able to sell all his rags. I am impatient with my career; complaining about the years that pass by and the possibility that I might not get what I want in life.
He was contented with his simple life; he did not ask for more or get miserable in his situation. I was never contented because I wanted happiness; I kept on asking for more because I feel helpless and miserable.
He did not seem problematic; he was proudly smiling despite his physical deformity. I am very problematic; I always cry alone and carry the entire burden of the world.
There were a lot more comparisons that ran crisscross in my mind as I drove off to work that day. My head was spinning with realizations.
When I passed by the church, my tears finally fell. I slowed down, closed my eyes, and thanked God for my life, my work, the people that surround me, everything.
We are all really blessed that we didn't get to experience what that poor boy is going through. We didn't have to go to work at an early age just so our whole family can have something to eat. We didn't have to sacrifice our childhood and education just to earn money. We didn't have to spend time in the streets under the heat or rain in order for us to live a normal life.
If you would notice, I don't call us lucky. I call us blessed.
It isn't mere luck that gave us the life that we have right now. It is God who blessed us and continues to bless us.
We should be grateful all the time. We don't need street kids to make us realize that.
This is my realization.