Last Minute Agony Before Turning 14

Yesterday, I was thirteen, now I turned fourteen. Today is the 26th day of June and it is written on my birth certificate. Usually, there is nothing so big deal when it is the day before my birthday, but yesterday was really something. Aside from having a pre-celebration together with my family, I also experienced a last minute pain. We were at the Jaro Cathedral to attend the anticipated Saturday Mass. The last time I entered the cathedral was last year's Centennial Celebration, so when I went inside, I was, as usual, amazed by its beauty especially the statues of various male saints and the paintings at the ceiling. And every time I enter the place, everything seems so solemn. There I predicted that even though I am not with my friends in any of my birthday celebration, this day will be unforgettable.

            The Mass has started and we were already singing the Gloria when I saw a white thing moving on the floor beside the pew where we were seated. The people near that side looked at the white thing. I was curious so I also gazed. There I found out that it was not a "moving thing" but a lame boy. I bet he was near my age or even more. He went forward and approached a woman, asking for alms. He stretched out his hand with a slipper. Yes, a slipper. Instead of his feet wearing a pair of slippers, his hands were the ones using them. Luckily, the woman gave him a penny of an amount which I don't know. Then he went back to the side of our pew and asked the old-aged couple for any amount of money. Again, he was given. At that time I was thinking that he will soon come to me for I was just a few centimeters away from the couple ( actually my sister was nearer to them ). As expected, he came to me crawling. I wasn't surprised, but terrified, like the last time I entered that place, when there was a girl also came to us. He stretched his hand to me, yet I looked straight at the altar. I can say some people at my back saw him and what I did. Then my mom poked my dad telling to give the boy money. My dad immediately gave a five-peso coin. Then, that was the time I looked at him. He balanced the coin on the slipper and used his other hand to get it and placed it inside his pocket. I looked at his eyes. After that, I refused to look straight at him again. In his eyes I saw the pain and the burden he has been experiencing. Those pitiful eyes touched me. If only I brought with me my coins, I would never ever hesitate to give him some. There, I caught myself not concentrating to the Mass.

            After receiving the coin, I thought he will leave and proceed to other Mass-goers. But no. He didn't. The old woman tapped his shoulder and whispered something to him. Of course I didn't hear a thing, but I can infer that the woman told him to stop going around and stay in one place for awhile. That is because that boy sat at the side of the pew in front of us. And that disturbed me more from listening to the readings. He has a wound near his left eye because he has a makeshift bandage using a white cloth. His feet were like of the Chinese women having lotus feet. They were small and I am sure they had stopped growing. My sister told me that there's a term for the act of the 'sindikato' making the feet of the children turn like the ones of the boy. The priest who I knew and met a year ago was having his homily already when I saw the boy gazing from side to side. He looked at one of the flat screens hung on the pillars of the cathedral. He was resting for a while when he decided to leave. I did not see him after he left. I thought he will come back, but he didn't. The Mass has ended and so we went out. I looked around and saw no sign of him. There were no more beggars outside. Perhaps because it was already past six. I was really eager to know where he went. Maybe he has some friends with him and they searched for shelter. Or maybe he has a family. Or maybe... I hope not... he went to the 'sindikato' to give the money he earned from begging. I hope he didn't. And I hope what my sister said about those 'sindikato' is not true at all. We already reached home after eating in a restaurant, yet his eyes kept on flashing back in my mind. Those pitiful eyes.

            My last day being a thirteen year old girl has left a memory in me. And I am sure that this will not just vanish in my mind nor in my heart right away. The, in fact, will leave a scar in my heart. It was just an instant where my eyes meet the ones of a poor boy, probably of my age. That was all. An instance common to all. An instance where one ignores a hand of the poor. " Love the least, the last, and the lost," that's what Fr. Nathaniel ( the celebrant) mentioned in his homily. Now, I always think of him... of his condition and his future. I hope to see him again the next time I go to the Cathedral. And I hope to see him better than yesterday.