Author's note:
This is a story that I hold super close to my heart. While it isn't based on real events, the character Lola (grandma in Tagalog) is based on my Lola in real life. When I lived in the Philippines, I spent my summers with my cousins at her house and those were always so fun. I looked up to her growing up not just because of the way she raised my mom, aunts, uncles, me, and my cousins, but also how she did it by herself as my grandpa passed away from cancer many years ago. I wrote this story two years before she passed away and I wish I read it to her. I wish I could've told her that this story won 1st place at a creative writing competition and that it was based on her. Posting this story here isn't the same, but the world deserves to know the kind of person my Lola was. This is for you, Lola. Mahal ko po kayo. Sobra.
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When I was seven years old, my Lola warned me: Makinig ka sa akin, Lena. Ingatan mo yung puso mo ha. Lalo na sa mga sundalo. Listen to me, Lena. Protect your heart, especially from soldiers.
It was after dinner. Lola and I sat out on the steps of our two-story house in Georgia. Invisible lines divided our lawn into three sections—newly laundered clothes hanging on drying racks filled the left side; Lola’s turquoise truck faced us, the moon and stars illuminating its deteriorating body; and different types of orchids, Lola’s favorite, arranged by color in a perfect, straight line, filled our right side. Sitting here in the midst of everything familiar made me feel safe. Lola sat a step higher than me. A passerby might say that an elderly person like her shouldn’t sit on something so cold and hard, but Lola was never the kind of person who minded things like that. Her comfort always came in last.
Ma was inside the house, typing on her computer at the dinner table that looked out at the front lawn. My two younger siblings played with Legos on the faded maroon oriental carpet in the living room, the TV blaring in the background drowning out their careless laughter. Earlier today, I heard from the radio that there would be a meteor shower tonight. Since Lola was busy in the kitchen and Papa wasn’t here anymore, I begged Ma to come stargaze with me. She brushed me off with a wave of her hand and said that there were more important things in life than lazing around and looking at the stars.
I wished Papa was still here. I wouldn’t even have to ask—he’d just pick me up and we’d be out, watching the stars twinkle against a dark, velvety backdrop. He said it was his favorite thing to do at night while he was on the battlefield; it made him think of home. Of us. Everyone changed when Papa passed away. Ma used to radiate lightness and warmth, but now she carried with her the burden of raising three kids by herself. When she wasn’t at work, she buried herself with work at home, either by rearranging the furniture, cleaning until everything was spotless, or by being on her computer all day. Ma knew how important meteor showers were to me so when she said no, something in me shattered. It was similar to being a glass jar that already had cracks all over. Instead of Ma catching it with both hands as it toppled over, she just stood there and watched it break.
I stormed outside, tripped on the steps, and landed at the bottom of the porch with scraped knees. I shut my eyes and thought of happy thoughts to prevent myself from crying. Ma hated it when I cried. She said that as the firstborn, I had to be strong. When I opened my eyes, Lola was standing at the top of the porch steps—a first-aid kit in one hand and a mango ice candy in the other. Like Papa, she always knew how to cheer me up. I looked up at the sky and thought of Papa.
“It’s okay if you want to cry, mija. Lola knows you’re a brave girl,” she whispered, handing me the mango ice candy. My hands closed around the cold treat as a single tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it as fast as I could with my arm and looked behind me to check if my mother was there, ready to scold me for being careless again. She wasn’t. Tear after tear began rolling down my cheeks and soon, I was crying, the salty taste of my tears blending in with the sweet taste of mango on my lips and tongue.
“I miss Papa.”
Lola sighed, brushing the damp hair away from my face. “Be careful of whom you give your heart to, Lena.” Although she was smiling, her furrowed brows betrayed her. I had no idea what she was talking about or where it came from. Not wanting her to think I was stupid, I smiled instead. She chuckled and pinched my cheek.
“You are exactly like your mother; always so afraid to ask and always so afraid to admit.”
She was wrong. Even as a kid, I knew I didn’t want to end up like Ma. I didn’t want to have a heart who didn’t care for anybody. Scratching my eyes, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“Stay away from soldiers, mija.”
“You mean, like Papa?”
“Yes, like your Papa.”
“But Papa was a good man. Why should I stay away from good people?” I thought soldiers were supposed to protect people. Instead of staying away from them, I should stick by them so I could be safe. At least that was what Papa told me in case of emergencies. Find someone in uniform. Anybody. And stick by them.
She wiped my tears away using the back of her hands. “Your Papa was a very good man, mija. One of the best. But spare yourself the pain and marry someone who’s not a soldier, okay?” She spared a glance at Ma’s direction and a look of sadness, like when a mother just lost her daughter, crossed her face. When she looked back at me, the old Lola returned. Patting my cheek lightly, she continued, “They are very good at saving other people’s lives, but not their own.”
The very next day, she slipped in the bathroom and hit her head. Ma found her and ever since then, I never saw Lola again. The last person who always chose my side was gone. We buried her beside Papa and visited their grave every November 1st, but that was it. As a kid, her warning didn’t make sense to me, but now I know. She was preparing me so one day, I would know what to do. She wasn’t just telling me to protect my heart. She was protecting me from many things, and my heart was just one of them. I knew I had the option not to listen to her, but I couldn’t betray Lola. Not like that, especially since that was her final wish.
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