It was the day after the burial. Mama and I ran into one of the town’s small pasalubong stores. She was set to leave for Manila later that night along with my niece and younger brother. Kuya and I would be left home. It won’t be too long and there would just be our house and the memories in it.
I rummaged through the goodies and found everything quite cheap. (Everything becomes quite cheap when you are earning your own money.) I picked a sugar-coated ube packed in a plastic. I’ve always liked ube. And condol, and langka. Papa liked it, too.
The last time I was in this store, I was with my father. About a year ago, I think.