Bits of Silver

Back in Prep, when I still believed a good, strong wind could make a crossed pair of eyes crossed forever, I’d visit the playground, but not always to play.

What I really decided to be worth more of my time was hunting for treasure under the shade of a huge balete tree: finely crushed bits of glass that shone silver in the light.

I would patiently sift through the gritty gray gravel, relying on the light to tell me what was worth keeping. Some bits would glitter as they rolled on my palm, while other bits would stay dull. These got thrown back to the gravel, far from where I stayed so that I wouldn’t pick them up again.

I didn’t settle for just any bit that glittered, too; I would make sure they shone from all angles, and that they were the shiniest they could be.

I was proud to be a connoisseur, and kept every worthy bit in a corner of my dresser back at home.

Playmates would warn me against my hunting. They were afraid the that duendes would get mad with me, because duendes don’t like it when anyone digs through the ground above their homes for their treasure. I’d never listen, because one, I never saw a duende, and two, I figured they’d come for me already if they actually cared considering I’ve looted so much of their silver already.

The teacher wouldn’t really care about my exploits. She’d keep her eye on those who ran around squealing with laughter.

One afternoon, while I waited unusually long for my Papa to pick me up, I went to kill time at the playground, which was a good distance from the school gate.

Alone, since most of the other kids had already gone home, I gathered my skirt, squatted, and began expertly sifting and picking through the gravel.

Without anyone to warn me against what I liked doing, I took the time to look around and enjoy being alone. I looked at the huge balete tree, and wondered where duendes would live if they really were around. I found myself staring, and still I wondered, squatting on my spot.

I wondered if the duendes would shoot their hands up from the ground, and grab mine to catch me in the act. Or if they might ambush me by falling from the branches. Maybe they would surprise me from behind and cover my mouth to make sure I didn’t scream.

I wondered if I’d even have time to scream.

I also wondered, that maybe, the duendes were only waiting for me to be alone.

By then I’d noticed how alone I was, and with all the instinct of a caught thief, I felt the huge balete tree staring back.

At that moment, I wondered if my Papa was already there.

I quickly shook off the five incriminating bits of silver I had managed to find, slapping my hands together several times to make them fall and rubbing my sweaty palms against my skirt. I didn’t want any evidence.

As I left, walking fast but not running because I didn’t want to look too guilty, my nape prickled.

I kept my resolve until I turned a corner, and then, like cheap glass, my resolve shattered.

I ran all the way to the gate, with laughter I was no longer sure I imagined ringing behind me.

I found my Papa waiting at the gate.

He wondered where I went, since I don’t normally leave the gate. I told him I went to the playground, and, trying to be brave, told him I was fine.

I only made sure that, on the way to the car, I walked close enough to grab his hand if I ever felt small angry hands grasp my neck.