It is almost merienda time and the end of a school day. One by one, kids are getting picked up by their sundo. The place is getting quieter by the minute.

There’s one little girl left.

Now, there’s this huge standing bulletin board that greets you when you enter the big doors of the school. You know, the one with wheels so it can be moved anywhere. There’s a bit of space on the lower half so you can see the other side when you bend.

This little girl is sitting below it, somewhere close to the left foot of the bulletin board. She’s busy flipping papers, folding them into handmade bookmarks.

Alone.

Unbothered.

Too engrossed with her craft.

She doesn’t mind.

The little girl curves herself almost into a ball — enough to see closely what she is doing. With her little hands, she places a paper on top of her notebook. Carefully, she takes two corners of the paper and folds it in half, making sure everything’s aligned. And fold she goes until she’s satisfied.

The next minute, she leans down further on the floor. Scribbles. Doodles. All with her pencil and crayons.

Her blue skirt turns gray; her arms are smudged with gray and pink by the pressure of her weight against the smooth concrete floor.

She doesn’t mind.

“Anong ginagawa mo diyan?”

My mom walked quietly through the big school doors. Her upper body leaned sideways as she spotted me curled up below the standing bulletin board. My back was against the big doors, so I didn’t notice her. I wouldn’t notice her either way. My other senses mysteriously shut off when I’m too focused on something.

I looked up to her, probably nonchalantly. Then I grinned, realizing it was my mom. Hurriedly, I picked up my masterpieces and my bag, stood up from where I was sitting, and brushed off the gray from my blue skirt and arms.

I walked out of the school’s big doors, hand in hand with my mom.

I’m not sure if I answered her question that time — about why I was sitting there of all places.

My mom probably knew.

I was too engrossed with my craft.

I just didn’t mind. :)