As we walked through the aisles of the grocery store, my friend turned to me with a smile.
"Are you buying anything?" she asked, casually scanning the shelves.
I chuckled, trying to hide the heaviness in my chest.
"Nah, just here to keep you company," I replied, forcing a smile.
She shrugged and continued shopping, her hands reaching for packs of chicken, hot dogs, and ham, carefully placing them in her cart.
I trailed behind her, watching.
How I wish I could buy those things too.
Every item she added seemed like a luxury, something beyond my reach. But I kept walking, keeping my feelings hidden behind a cheerful facade.
As we reached the juice and milk section, she grabbed a carton of apple juice and held it up.
"Do you want this one, or maybe this other flavor?" she asked, still smiling.
I quickly shook my head.
"No, really, I’m fine. I’m just here to help you out," I said, hoping to divert her attention.
But she wasn't easily fooled. Her brows knitted together as she tried to gauge whether I was telling the truth.
Before I could stop her, she tossed the juice into the cart.
"Come on, it's my treat!" she declared, her eyes gleaming with kindness.
I let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off.
"It’s your money, do what you want!" She laughed along, her joy so infectious, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.
She’s too generous, always offering to pay for me. It wasn’t the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last.
But as the moments passed, I found myself sinking deeper into my thoughts.
My friend was thoughtful, always noticing when I couldn’t afford something, but every act of kindness from her only made me more aware of my own limitations.
I had fallen behind, lost in my thoughts, when she turned around to check on me.
"You okay?" she asked.
I plastered on a smile and hurried to catch up, not wanting her to sense my inner turmoil.
We stopped in the bread section, and she picked up a loaf of sliced bread, then reached for some hopia.
She glanced back at me with a playful grin.
“What about this? Want me to buy you some?”
I shook my head, trying to laugh it off.
"No thanks, I’m good. Besides, I’m still full," I lied, my voice sounding more upbeat than I felt.
The truth was, I longed to say yes.
I wanted to accept her offer, but I couldn’t.
The shame of not being able to pay her back weighed heavily on me.
She saw right through me though, and with a determined look, she threw the hopia into her cart.
"You don’t get a choice this time," she teased.
"I’m treating you!"
I laughed, but the ache in my heart deepened.
I appreciated her gesture, truly, but there was something about this situation that left me feeling smaller each time.
As we made our way to the checkout, the mall around us bustled with people, all busy with their own purchases.
What does it feel like to shop without worrying about every peso?
The question haunted me.
How does it feel to buy groceries without guilt, to walk out of the store with a full cart, knowing you can afford it?
We finished up, exchanged goodbyes, and went our separate ways.
I clutched the hopia she had bought for me, grateful for her kindness yet weighed down by the conflicting emotions swirling inside me.
Finding a quiet spot, I sat down and unwrapped the snack, but before I could take a bite, tears blurred my vision.
It wasn’t just about today.
This same feeling washed over me every time she invited me to go shopping with her. I loved her company, but the envy gnawed at me.
Why can she afford things I can’t?
Why do I feel so small compared to her?
I hated thinking like this, knowing it wasn’t right.
Wiping away my tears, I closed my eyes and prayed.
I knew God wouldn’t want me to feel this way.
Life wasn’t measured by what I could buy, but by the love I had around me—the family, friends, and health He blessed me with.
I may not have the material things others had, but I had God, and that was more than enough.
Taking a deep breath, I stood up, hopped on a tricycle, and headed home, my heart a little lighter.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
