It came in early today.
I thought he’d send it later in the afternoon.
Yesterday, he said he was too busy
to look for it.
“It’s somewhere in those boxes of ragged clothes,
old toys, dusty books.
I’ll look for it when I have time.” he said.
I offered a hand in the search, but he shrugged
it off, said he didn’t need it.
He always does that.
I took it out from the tattered box.
It has patches all over it’s dusty carcass.
The laces can’t be tangled together: too short.
But, aside from the little damages, it was okay, till
I turned it upside down; spikes all worn out.
They look more like miniature humps on an
ancient road.
But, again, spikes are spikes. Even if
they would not hold my feet firm
on the ground.
And then it came to me,
was it too big, again, for my size.
“You need not buy a new one.
It’ll suffice. Just use it.” he said, while
carrying Tita’s bag, one Sunday afternoon.
He’s always like that;
passing hand-me-down shoes to me.
I’d accept it though. And use them during play-offs.
I’d run in marathons, play in ball games, wearing
shoes twice the size of my feet.
And as always, I’d fall short.
“Your shoes are too big,” they said, “try these on.
I think we’re of the same size.”
I’d shrug them off. “I don’t need it.” I’d say.
And continue with what I was doing, in
my dad’s shoes.
But this time, I didn’t like the idea
of running around the diamond, with loose pair
of studs. So I decided to try it on. If it didn’t fit,
I’d buy a new one: the pair of my choice.
That simple.
I slid my right foot in,
same goes with the other.
And surprisingly,
they fit perfectly.
—
Sums is a graduating Education student at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan.