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A stranger’s footprints in the sand

By Mikhaeila Digman

I sat down by the seashore and prepared my notes of my daily journal before writing this particular article.

I took a glimpse at the setting sun before it bids goodbye. I have been to other places but this one stood out differently because of its tranquility and I felt contented being alone.

I fell in love with the silence and basked in the security and comfort of the tall coconut trees around me. I felt free and wade in the water, calming me and eased the feeling of solitude.

After that short meditation I returned to the shore and ate the packed lunch my mom prepared for me. Suddenly I noticed something at the cottage a distant away.

I saw a worn-out slipper without a pair. Out of curiosity I saw footprints in the sand and followed its track towards the cottage.

Then I saw a man, yes a man. He was wearing tattered clothes. His right hand holding a sack of trash. He stood up and started collecting some trash at the shore. I followed him.

When he began to notice me, he looked at me and smiled. He looked tired though.

“Hello young lady!” he sounded enthusiastic. “I hope you enjoyed your stay here. And please don’t throw your trash everywhere. It will ruin the beauty of this island,” he said with a concerned smile.

Later I realized I was never alone in that beach. In all the silence, comfort, ease and freedom I experienced there, somehow someone was behind it-all along.

It was him, I felt it. He who cleans the beach, he who secured it and he who protects and preserves its beauty.
Not only for me but for all humanity.

Editor’s note: The author is a promising feature writer who is a senior high-school student of Albor National High School of Libjo, Dinagat Islands.

Artwork courtesy of LEMERG

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