Drops

DROPS
Drops
Drops

I am seated at the lobby of a company waiting for my name to be called for the initial interview. It is three in the afternoon. I am tired, cold and hungry. I haven’t eaten my lunch because earlier today I was at the job fair where endless lines of expectant applicants flood the venue.

These job seekers are professionals equipped by fine universities and colleges. Some are skilled, bursting with ideas and strategies. Built and polished by experience. But despite these overflowing brains, it can never be denied that they and their families have empty pockets. Much more, empty stomachs. So thanks to our ‘beloved’ government for its utmost efforts to provide employment to its deteriorating populace.

I am staring at the glass ceiling of the lobby. Raindrops begin to fall. I don’t know if I am just enduring the heaviness of my eyelids but my thoughts brought me to the state of reminiscing.

A drop of blood stained the floor of the public hospital one December of 1982. After the child came out, the mother’s womb was completely shut by ligation. It has to be stopped for it produced already six. The baby seemed healthy but in reality she is malnourished. Her father was laid off by the Company but couldn’t do anything to defend his cause. He did not have the means to engage in a judicial battle. Nevertheless, he is very happy to see his little angel. Curiously looking around. As if assessing her surroundings.

A drop of milk flowed from her little cheeks. She has just finished her snack. Perspiring heavily and her clothes are soiled all over from playing under the sun. Everyday she tries to satisfy her curiosity. But everyday it grows deeper, wider and complex. She has countless dreams. She views the world as friendly place to live in. A child’s optimist outlook in life.

A drop of ink colored her right hand’s point finger. For the first time she casts her vote. She is excited. Not because she has a political bet. She is agitated to be stepping into a new level of her life-- legal age which accompanies certain legal rights. Suffrage, emancipation and so on and so forth. Maturity suddenly takes its roots. Dreams, ambitions, passions of yesterday’s youth, now the time to achieve them all. Leaping forward to put them into realization.

A drop of patience she utters today. A prayer with faith from the Almighty. She does not want to give up although pushed to the edge. This world is in truth disgusting and no longer worthy to be inhabited. Yet she struggles to survive and still make a difference. That is why I am here waiting for my name to be called. The interview is set at 2:30 and it is already 4:00.

A drop of blood and a drop of milk. A drop of ink and a drop of patience. My life is like the rain. Little by little, one by one. Flooded by problems and hurdles in life. But I believe they are sent with a purpose. They come to refine who I am.

A teardrop fell from my exhausted pale eyes. Once again I am rejected for being unqualified. But nonetheless I can sleep without regret tonight. Though I failed at least I tried. And tomorrow the sun will still shine.