THAT MAN ALONG THE
ROAD
It was 12:00 noon. The
scorching heat of the sun was almost burning my skin as I walked along the
long street of Dama de Noche. But it was no reason at all not to notice a lanky
fellow, long haired, with hollow cheeks (aged sixty five to seventy I think)
standing in front of his apartment, while fanning himself to death.
But the sight of him didn't give so much attention in my mind not until one day, as I passed by, again, I saw him in the street near his apartment approaching a stout, younger woman with his arms opened, "Please lend me Ten pesos my dear, I need it very badly". He pleaded. “That's also my problem”, said she. In fact I have nothing to give to my daughter", she lamented, as I overheard their conversation.
I almost approached them, to give what he needed but I felt awkward. Well, I must be interfering in their privacy. I tried to act casually, but it gave me a feeling of heaviness as I walked down the road, farther from the scene. I was almost blaming myself. I was in the situation to help and act as a "Good Samaritan" that day, and that ten pesos would have helped that old lanky fellow in his present problem. That ten pesos, stuck on my mind, and every time I saw him, I wanted to hand him even a hundred pesos, so he will have food to fill his stomach if that’s what he needed. But I don't really know if it would be proper for me to do it. Thinking otherwise, he might get insulted with my gesture.
Few moons passed, not seeing him, as I passed in that nearby street. Until one day I saw him seated in a chair silently, in front of his place, crossed legs, with a rough long wooden staff in his side, but his eyes no longer follow as I walked along the street. His sight seemed blank.
Every time I see him, my heart breaks, especially seeing him with his wooden walking stick as he moved in that little space outside his apartment. With his eyes looking in one direction, I concluded, "he was blind". And my dilemma began, thinking, if it was proper to help when nobody's even asking for it.
Now, the chair in front of his place where he used to sit seemed empty, I haven't seen him for almost couple of months. That triggered my guilt of not lending a hand. And his memories kept hunting me every time I passed by that street. And the heaviness in my heart kept coming, thinking, that he had no children to take care of him because he was a gay. I was so confused.
Should I ask for him so as to erase this heaviness in my heart, or just pray for him and continue to live peacefully?
But the sight of him didn't give so much attention in my mind not until one day, as I passed by, again, I saw him in the street near his apartment approaching a stout, younger woman with his arms opened, "Please lend me Ten pesos my dear, I need it very badly". He pleaded. “That's also my problem”, said she. In fact I have nothing to give to my daughter", she lamented, as I overheard their conversation.
I almost approached them, to give what he needed but I felt awkward. Well, I must be interfering in their privacy. I tried to act casually, but it gave me a feeling of heaviness as I walked down the road, farther from the scene. I was almost blaming myself. I was in the situation to help and act as a "Good Samaritan" that day, and that ten pesos would have helped that old lanky fellow in his present problem. That ten pesos, stuck on my mind, and every time I saw him, I wanted to hand him even a hundred pesos, so he will have food to fill his stomach if that’s what he needed. But I don't really know if it would be proper for me to do it. Thinking otherwise, he might get insulted with my gesture.
Few moons passed, not seeing him, as I passed in that nearby street. Until one day I saw him seated in a chair silently, in front of his place, crossed legs, with a rough long wooden staff in his side, but his eyes no longer follow as I walked along the street. His sight seemed blank.
Every time I see him, my heart breaks, especially seeing him with his wooden walking stick as he moved in that little space outside his apartment. With his eyes looking in one direction, I concluded, "he was blind". And my dilemma began, thinking, if it was proper to help when nobody's even asking for it.
Now, the chair in front of his place where he used to sit seemed empty, I haven't seen him for almost couple of months. That triggered my guilt of not lending a hand. And his memories kept hunting me every time I passed by that street. And the heaviness in my heart kept coming, thinking, that he had no children to take care of him because he was a gay. I was so confused.
Should I ask for him so as to erase this heaviness in my heart, or just pray for him and continue to live peacefully?
My regret……
Photo credits to the owner...
Photo credits to the owner...
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