The burden of sharing my mother
My mother has never been mine alone. This was a recurring thought I’ve had every time she would choose to...
The last ‘suffer’
A common picture hung in every Catholic home is of Jesus Christ having his last supper with his disciples before...
My Dad’s old typewriter
My Dad treasures a lot of things. Through the years, he has collected items that remind him of significant events...
What I learned after ‘Nanay’ died
Several adjectives can be used to describe me: strong, clever, passionate, determined. But while I am a Rolodex of characteristics,...
No one’s left for Christmas Eve
It was Christmas Eve, and I was with my three siblings at the table, trying to make a simple dessert....
Two sides of the same coin
I thought that when I was born, God flipped a coin. I imagined Him asking the question “Would this one...
Light
In the three years you have gone, I only visited your house just to help Mama clean. All things are...
Road to recovery
My father died on New Year’s Day. It was almost 12 years ago, and it’s a wonder I can still...
Household melody
A dragging sound of a cheap slipper, slow and heavy. It was my father’s footsteps, for he had never walked...
Shoulder taps
My Lola once told me about her childhood and how she used to play with her friends—they climbed trees and...
