At the bakery

The air in their mother’s place was becoming more and more humid by the minute. The two little ones were restless. The older one wanted to watch her favorite Sesame Street video in the laptop. But spent most of the time in front of the television instead, staring at these colorfully costumed characters and dazzling special effects. The younger one found some books, obligingly sat beside me, and listened to my monotonous voice droning away at a carefully invented story about cheerful raindrops falling from the sky and animals coming out of their eggs. She too grew weary of this after a while and soon headed for their room, never looking back. I began packing away the laptop, thinking I should go and let the little ones have some rest. It was getting late. The older one noticed me and came near to lean on my leg. I asked her if she wanted to go to the bakery with me, remembering that I still haven’t had my dinner. She was excited and went to look for her slippers. And we were soon out in the streets, feeling the cool air on our skin. Along the way, she drew my attention to the moon, a hazy patch of light behind dark clouds. At the bakery, I bought some slices of what looked like banana bread and some of those small macaroon-like delicacies, while she watched the yellow lovebirds nearby. We quietly munched away at our small feast right there in front of the bakery. Pushing everything down with gulps of cold softdrinks. Her small bites were punctuated by tranquil smiles at the noise of passing jeepneys and the sight of brown cockroaches scurrying beside the road. My mind, worn down by fears and worries, was basking in that momentary peace. In a few minutes, I would be saying goodbye again to the little girl and her sisters. But I was thinking then that if I were to choose the scenes from this life that I wanted to be played in my mind during my last few hours, I would definitely include this one.