there's no reason to complain

I am exhausted, for all the wrong reasons.

The night bore a sadness that floated heavily in the air. Perhaps it was the rain that patterred on the windows of my car or faint glow of the lamps in the hazy darkness of rain. The road was filled with cars, people on their way to the rest of their lives.

And then a child, not more than six years of age, started tapping on my window, holding out a bunch of sampaguitas. He was drenched, his bare feet covered with mud. "Sige na po, ate, pangkain ko lang po."

I didn't want any sampaguitas, so I just gave him a twenty peso bill I found crumpled up in my purse.

"Salamat ate."

I had never heard such a heartfelt thanks as the one that came from that child... for a twenty-peso bill that would normally have gone to something useless like toll or parking.

Suddenly, I felt like crying.

Here I was on a way to a dinner, where I would indulge gluttonously in a buffet when I was not even hungry. Here I was complaining that my work was messing up my schedule, when this child had to sell sampaguitas in the night to get his next meal. Here I was complaining that I did not get enough sleep, when this child probably did not even have a proper bed to sleep on.

I am angry, because I was lucky and this child was not. My life and my future has been handed to me on a silver platter. Sometimes I complain about not having enough, when so many people could have a better life if only they had even one fourth of what I have been blessed with.

I am angry, because the world is unfair, and I am part of it. Because much has been given to me, and I deserve none of it.