Guijo’s Walk
He had spent his whole day pondering over the events of the past, yet he knew how depressing it would be to stay up and think about these things. Guijo decided to go to bed early. He turned off his night light, said goodnight to God after he asked Him for a happier life. People always look for better lives.
The air conditioner in Guijo’s dark room shut off at 3:47 in the morning. When he woke up everyday at 5am, the room was dark, damp, and heavy. Nothing had been the same since that day they rushed her to the hospital. Guijo was only 11 then, and he may or may not have moved on. Only he knows.
He sat up on his bed. Two feet touched the oak brown, authentic, wooden floor. Moments later, two knees shifted its weight to the floor. Guijo looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. He did this because it somehow made the words matter more. Again he prayed, but this time for a day of learning. People like to learn.
Morning habits were the only things that kept Guijo’s life moving. Wake up. Pray. Brush teeth. He felt stagnant and helpless, so he wanted to be alone to think.Today, Guijo wanted to do something out of the ordinary - out of his ordinary. As he gathered the courage to walk through his still-asleep, silently depressed, and grieving household, Guijo walked to the front porch, wore his flip-flops, opened the gate discreetly, and closed it silently. The black asphalt road awaited him.
Before walking, Guijo decided to set a goal for himself. He proclaimed in his mind, “Today, I will greet someone within 6 feet of my proximity”. He was shy and any human interaction would make his throat dry, yet today felt different. Guijo took one step,then two, then three, he altered the speeds. Sometimes, he went fast in some alleys and other times went slow in streets with more green than others. This one street had many flowers. Some white, countable reds, seas of blue, and straight rays of yellow. He took the most time on this street because it reminded him of someone special and dear to his heart. Guijo picked up two snow white flowers for home. Whilst walking, he observed everything around him. Color filled his eyes. Asphalt black, leafy green, bloody pink, coffin brown, and vanilla white.
He took into account the houses and their characteristics. He never denied that some houses were nicer than others while other houses were shabby too. Guijo knew that God blessed others more than some, yet Guijo concluded that being kept from default pleasures and measures of wealth actually made people appreciate intangibles. He knew this well from the people at home; that human connection and the gift of laughter would be more valuable than any sports car, any modern house, and any beautiful mouse. So he went on with this conclusion in his head.
Guijo turned into a street that went uphill. It was desolate. No person walked this street, for there was nothing on it but cold, hard concrete. He walked into it anyway. Guijo did not mind the unattractiveness of this street. All he wanted was to think as he moved his little feet . The setting never mattered to him. Beyond this country is a chance to grab life by the neck. Beyond the asphalt hilltop was a group of three security guards. These men dressed in white polos, black slacks, shiny leather boots, and navy blue jackets to keep them away from the morning cold. They guarded the village day and night. Guijo did not care. He only wanted to turn back because the prospect of saying hello to three people at once seemed too much for him to handle.
The man wanted to turn back, but his conscience was stopping him. Guijo’s conscience was pleading, no, begging him to do what he ought to do. Nothing should stop him. No fear, nothing. So, he walked along the street. From the top of the black asphalt hill to the end of the street, he took steps. One could sense that Guijo walked with a sense of pride, a sense of victor. It seemed as if nothing could stop him. It was morning, and he wanted to start his day right.
All people like to start their day right. Guijo continued walking when all of a sudden, a biker appeared out of nowhere. It was one of the security guards preparing for her shift at the construction site. The biker held her bike with one hand. She wore a green backpack, ragged olive green shorts, and a red sando. But her clothes did not matter to Guijo. What did matter, however, was that the biker’s other hand was free. Guijo had the chance to say hello to a person 6ft within his proximity. Guijo raised his hand to wave to his neighbour. The biker ignored him. They crossed paths. The biker went along his day whilst Guijo tried to save the little dignity he had left by pretending to grasp for air.
All Guijo wanted to do then was make it past the street. For Guijo, nothing could be more painful than not receiving a greeting back when you’ve greeted first. Guijo continued to walk. He looked ahead and saw the three guards. None of them looked at him. Not a single one of the three, now two, cared that he was left hanging. The duo of guards talked about debt and how one of them was able to convince their auntie to give them an extension on certain dues. Guijo turned on the corner.
Guijo still felt embarrassment. He was left hanging after all. No one liked to be left hanging. It tainted his honor. Guijo finally reached home. He walked his whole village. Guijo was there in his driveway 43 minutes ago in the dark 5am cold. Guijo stood there earlier with a goal. He was back there having accomplished that goal. Even when he felt embarrassed after waving to the biker who did not wave back, Guijo was satisfied.
He went into his home being greeted by his grandmother whom he had picked up a white flower for. Guijo took the second white flower for his mom. Her altar stood alone in one room. He lay the flower in front of the urn and whispered, “I did it, mom.” It is the first time he interacted with a stranger since his mother's death.
