Abra and Linda

I haven't been in the mood to write. I think I got too jaded with adulting and everything happening in my life that my creative outlets took a backseat. I tried a few times. Tried to write a short story about a love story set in the zombie apocalypse but I honestly don't know where that is going. So I stopped.

My boss gave me a book about lifescribing and I figured I'd try it out. Perhaps fiction is not my strong suit. Maybe writing about my life is something that's easier for me to do. So here goes.

The first writing prompt is to write about my family tree. When I think about my family, I always think about my grandfather and grandmother in my mom's side. My grandfather's name is Abrahan and my grandmother is named Linda. I call them Lolo daddy and Lola Mame fondly. Most of the core memories from my childhood are mostly with them, in their house in Nueva Ecija. Every summer, my lolo would demand that all his apos stay with them for the whole 2 months of summer vacation. He was clingy like that.

I remember how my lolo daddy would bring me around in his stainless steel owner jeep with a hole under the passenger seat. I remember this hole because my slipper fell in it and I would not stop crying because we were never able to recover it. Slipper mishap aside, I enjoyed riding in my lolo's jeep. My first experience as a passenger princess.

I remember my lolo daddy and how he reeked of onions (he was an onion farmer), Marlboro reds and lukewarm beer. He would have his drinking friends over after a day of harvesting onions and they always had a videoke machine for entertainment. I remember stealing the mic from my lolo daddy and even though I could barely talk, he'd let me mumble away at the mic. Eventually when I learned how to sing, he would show me off to his friends. I'll never forget his face beaming at me proudly as I sang my heart out. 

I remember my lola and our trips to the palengke. How she would bribe me to go with her with pocketbooks from a stall in the palengke. These books were my foray into smut (lol). I guess my lola never realized she was buying her 9 year old apo, romance novels with very descriptive writing. When she got a cellphone, she would let me buy all these games on her phone so I can play. Eventually she gave me her new colored cellphone and she stuck with her old black and white one. 

She always smelled of Avon lipstick because she never went out without one.

My lola's faith was a big part of who she was and I admired that about her. I remember waking up early during Christmas time to attend simbang gabi with her. Little me loved the smell of puto bumbong and bibingka as we exited the church. Of course she would buy me some because that's how my lola showed her love.

One summer, we came home to their house and saw a big, white swing in Lola mame's orchid garden. My lolo daddy was so excited to show it to us. He had it made specifically for his apos. It must have cost him all his onion money. 

They were not rich but I always felt like a spoiled kid when I was with them. 

I always say a little prayer during mass for them. That one day we would all be together again and I'll get to experience all the love they've poured to us. I pray that they would visit me in my dreams so I can see their faces. I guess when you love someone that deeply, it transcends life and death. Their love was overflowing that even if we were only with them a few short years, it was enough memories to last me a lifetime. 

When I close my eyes, I can vividly see my lolo daddy and lola mame and that white swing. I guess it's imprinted in my brain forever. But I'm not complaining. In my heart, that 9 year old Tin is still alive and enjoying summers with her grandparents.