The red car that the author uses to deliver the meals to seniors with limited mobility.

MANILA, Philippines —  I looked at my cellphone to check the time. It said 7:41 a.m. It was still early, but sunlight already pervaded my windows. I sat on the edge of my bed and I could hear the voice of my niece already playing downstairs. Still groggy, I slumped back into my bed. Before I knew it, it was already 8:15 am. I really had to wake up.

Every Monday for the two years now, at 10:15 a.m. I have been volunteering at St. Vincent’s Meals-On-Wheels, an organization that delivers meals directly to the homes of seniors with limited mobility.

Since 1977, Meals-On-Wheels has been delivering life-saving meals and warm greetings to hungry and homebound seniors, as well as to disabled and seriously ill adults across Los Angeles in California. I am assigned as a volunteer driver for Route 15.

This route covers a fraction of the Los Angeles downtown area.

As a volunteer driver, I team up with a runner who delivers food to the home-bound while I wait in the van. Tino, the runner, tells me the direction. All I need to do is to drive. After a while, I have learned the route by heart.

Tino’s name is short for Constantino. He is a 50-year-old, short guy with a big heart from Guatemala. He teaches me Spanish words and phrases periodically. He would say, izquierda for “left turn’’ or derecha for “right turn,’’ or recto for “go straight.’’

That morning, Tino was looking for me, concerned that we might be late to deliver lunch. I had been late for more than a couple of times already. The past week, Carol, the coordinator for volunteers, called to tell me not to come in since she already assigned a driver for the day. That time, I was in the middle of the traffic at the 101 freeway at 10:30 a.m., which was truly, already late.

After attending to some errands before going straight to downtown, I was anxious of making it early that day. The traffic was slow as usual. I would occasionally glance at LAPD Highway Patrol cars parked on the side of the freeway with intimidating cops handing out traffic tickets to poor souls. “Good morning, Carol. How are you?” I greeted Carol sitting at her desk as I entered the back door of the building. I dashed into the main hall to look for Tino. A guy passed by me, “Tino’s looking for you.” Tino was just a few feet behind him.

After saying my apologies, we started our route.

'Don't get old'
I learned about Meals-on-Wheels from a church bulletin two years ago. They were looking for volunteers. I started as a runner.

Delivering food to the sick and elderly who are incapacitated to make meals for themselves can really be tiring. Running up and down the stairs, four storeys high, when the elevator is not working in the middle of a sweltering heat of the summer can really be harsh.

But my physical pain is nothing compared to the sight of agony that the sick and elderly people feel. One lady told me once, “Don’t get old,” smiling at me, refreshed to see a young face. All her friends had passed on to the other side. Feeling alone and betrayed by those who went ahead, she just sat at her sofa all day. She could barely move because any little movement could bring pain to her body, but she was gracious and accepting of her fate.

Another lady who had tubes of oxygen attached to her nostrils walking around with her tank opened the door for me after a long time wait. She was wheezing. This skeletal woman said, “Terrible,” when I asked how she was. It sounded ironically funny, but it was a statement of the bleak reality of her existence.

Getting a glimpse of the lives of these people that I serve gives me fuel for my own existence. The pain that they feel dwarfs the sufferings that I experience on a daily basis. There is also a feeling of consolation that everything is temporary, even the agony of getting old.

As I waited for Tino on our last stop, I stacked the empty trays neatly into three columns and tightened the strands that held them together. “Terminamos,” I repeated after Tino. “Gracias a Dios,” we exclaimed as I drove back to our mother house.

Back in our base, I viewed the lunch fare for volunteers. “Not bad,” I thought. I got some green peas with carrots, enchilada, cucumber, and Spanish rice, and I solemnly and silently chewed my food in the midst of Spanish conversations in the Hispanic-dominated lounge.

I got my parking sticker validation and headed to the parking structure where my car was parked. I looked at the time, 1:30 p.m. I still had time to light a candle at Immaculate Conception Church at James Wood Street before proceeding to do my other errands for the day.

As I knelt inside the chapel, I gazed at a man who was earnestly mouthing his prayers. What could he be asking? I got lost in my thoughts as I nodded my head off, a signal that I needed to catch a catnap. I remembered feeling groggy that morning. A gradual yearning lingered in my mind as I see a vision of my bed.

Next Monday will be another day in my life, as well as in the lives of the homebound Meals-on-Wheels clients. May those meals not only nourish their bodies but warm their hearts as well.

Rodolfo C. Rabonza is 36 years old and is based in Los Angeles, California. He is a former teacher at Ateneo de Manila Grade School and St. Elisabeth School, an elementary school under the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. He earned two master’s degrees from Loyola Marymount University, one in Elementary Education and another one in Language Arts and Literacy. He also finished an M.A. in Instructional Technology at Grand Canyon University. He is currently doing research work in the field of urban education and is a consultant of Saint Bernadette College of Alabang.

For insights or comments, feel free to email the author at dolfor2000@yahoo.com.