Mr. Driver

We find an angel in unexpected places in unexpected circurstances.

My son's first bag for school is a small blue inexpensive backpack. He never changed it, even if we bought him a better looking, more expensive Spiderman bag. The blue bag is more than a year old already, very dirty, and bursting at the seams. But even if we are just at home, he still wears it.

Imagine my surprise last night, when I was already in my panties and old shirt without a bra when we got a call from Nong Roger, our neighbor, telling us that a taxi driver went back to the basketball court looking for a petite woman with a husband and an English-speaking kid.

The driver is returning Dindin's bag. We did not notice we left it at the taxi.

So I grab my pants and jacket, took P20 from my wallet and went out.

I know P20 is probably not enough for a reward especially that Dindin loves that bag so much, but I don't have much to spare.

But I thought maybe a very big, appreciative THANK YOU with the warmest smile will tell the driver what his gesture means to us.

But when I turned right outside our gate to dash to the basketball court, I saw my very slow father bringing the bag already. The driver was gone.

You see, our phone has an extension at our store. My father was there when Angelo picked up the phone and heard the conversation. He took the initiative of getting the bag.

I never did get to see the driver again. I do not even remember his face. But I hope that the universe will give him back tenfold the kindness he showed to us by returning Dindin's bag.

Now Dindin can say he has met an angel. My son's angel is my angel too.