Pedestrians

It was the afternoon of December 24. Christmas Eve. She and her mother were doing last-minute grocery shopping in one of the convenience stores downtown. Items that were forgotten. A few cans of cream and pineapples. As expected, the place was packed. People busily moving along the aisles. Long queues at the cashier.

Finally, after paying at the counter, they emerge out of the air-conditioned store and into the loud and crowded street. Traffic was uncommonly heavy as ambulant vendors placed their goods way beyond the sidewalk, encroaching their display space into the narrow street itself. Nobody seemed to mind. The throngs of passersby were thankful that they could buy their fruits without even going inside the market. The tricycle drivers - those who braved the slow outflow of the route - also didn't mind the traffic, as they were a lot of passengers to pick up, anyway. Even the traffic enforcers themselves didn't mind. After all, it was Christmas Eve.

Her mother paused at the curb and looked wistfully around the festive chaos all around. She then gave out an audible sigh and shook her head.

"What's wrong?" She asked her mother.

Without responding, her mother took her by the hand as they stepped down the curb to cross the street. Halfway, they both paused mid-street to let a tricycle pass by. "I just remembered your uncle, that's all." Her mother dismissingly said.

The daughter nodded and reassuringly held her mother's hand tightly. They both continued crossing until they reached the opposite side. Wiping something from her eyes, she quietly told her daughter, "I just realized it's the first Christmas without my brother."

Up ahead, a vendor was hollering that her apples were only ten pesos apiece.