I came from the smell of the rain-drenched earth in May, from Tatang’s red swivel chair perched in the open terrace of mom’s ancestral place;
I came from the mightiest paper boats and strings of rubber bands, from clay pots, cardboard dolls, bahay-bahayan in our neighborhood’s vacant spot;
I came from the heart-pounding stories about tiyanak and aswang - we so much loved to hear when the moon was full and bright;
I came from daddy’s old metal toolbox, his proud racer bike forever resting on their bedroom wall, from the tea-colored pages of his beloved book of folk tales and songs I clearly do recall;
I came from the very early morning horn of the magpa-pandesal, from the sharp sound of a silver spoon swirling the glass that Inang makes her coffee from;
I came from chasing yellow and blue dragon flies, countless of them clouding those November skies, from the tall talahib grass that gashed me more than twice, and dark gumamela leaves unsparingly picked and sliced;
I came from the mossy waters of the illustrious Valdefuente, from the almost endless mountain roads to Cagayan that mom, dad and I used to climb;
I came from soaring saranggola in summertime, from the rolling meadows parched by the searing sun; I came from the clusters of bushy mango trees, and mounds of anthills amidst the lazy field;
I came from kissing the elders’ hands each Sunday after church, and from the loudly spoken prayers at bedtime every single night;
I came from the most authentic care of my gentlest aunt Conching, and from the sweetest laughters of my cousins while at play;
These are the treasured memories of my childhood home, the happiest place one day I’d return.
-yvetteauroredecroix’06-
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Copyright 2006 Y.CROIX. All rights reserved.
