Unconditional

Instead of riding the tricycle, I would normally just walk home to clear my mind (and save some moolah, too). One afternoon, I forgot to bring my sunglasses with me and I had to filter out the sun's rays through my fingers. I could remember the little orb peeking through, like a little orange gem. I close my eyes and tried to walk, feeling the pavement underneath.

Unsure of my steps, I open my eyes again and this time, I see a father and his daughter approaching me. She with the big smile as she looks ahead, he with the serene look as he pushes his daughter's wheelchair against the pavement. 

I walk on, grateful that my legs could carry me home.

Passing through the slums. Still a couple of blocks away from my home, I saw the perfect subjects for a picture that I would have taken: two brothers, around the ages of 7 and 5, walking; the older one's arm over the smaller sibling. The younger one with dust-covered cheeks, finally looks up to his older brother as he holds a half-eaten bread in his hands; his eyes glittering as he smiles.

I lose them in the throng. Regretting that I don't have a camera to capture the moment, I freeze it in my memory. I look back and I find them again. The older brother still has his arm over the younger one, with their worn-out flip flops trudging along the cement.

A coin toss between choosing to walk through the small marketplace or through the construction site. I chose the latter. A few paces from the gate, a man was riding a bike with his son sitting in front of him. They pass by a parked car to their right and I could hear the son say, "Papa, let's buy something like that!" as he looked briefly at his reflection on the car's windows. His father could only pedal harder and faster instead of answering.

I finally enter the gate.