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Little Dreams

By John Martin Musones

The roof of their tiny shack glistened elegantly before the street lights in a December night of merriment and glee. The people hurriedly journeyed the busy streets of Manila where his family had just slept for a day’s success in work. What a joy in his face when he recalled how satiated he was during his breakfast meal with his brothers and sisters, how happy he was when his friends teased his manually crafted parol made from newspapers and magazines, and how hurt he was when his mother scolded him in his stained, three-day old shirt. He slept in his small corner with his family. It was satisfying… another day has ended.

That December morning sun was steaming hot; every single men scorched in its rays drenched their shirts with sweat. He was lively under the sunshine as he always was. Run! He was fast, swift, and sneaky. Stop! A huge white gate clad with colorful Christmas lights and fancy decorations stood out in the village he passed. Reindeers jumped and jigged over the high roofs. Santa Claus smiled in his sleigh near the crafted chimney in that mansion’s crown. Joseph held his sister’s hand and sighed.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Maria leaped towards him and gave him a big grin. She has always been sweet to him even though he always cheats her in a game of taguan and deprives her of the morning coffee.

“Santa Claus? With that beard, I’d rather settle for a goatee!”

Maria puckered her face and crossed her arms as if defending herself from a lawyer.

“Can’t I kid? Of course he is! I just hoped he will go back this night for another treat. We’ll pretend that we are sleeping so that we can sneak out and see him in action.”

Joseph held his white sock in his other hand. “Hope this would fill with coins and candies again,” he added.

The night was filled with colorful lights. Joseph and Maria hurriedly went home and ate their festive dinner – a plastic for six from their favorite carinderia. As usual, they slept early; they needed energy for their early morning routine. The two covered their bodies in such a way that their eyes were the only pearls shining against the moonlit opened window. They could see Joseph’s little sock swaying with the breeze of the night. As their tiny vision of that sight gently faded for a cold night slumber, a hand reached for the hanged sock which quickly detached it from their weary hearts.


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