It’s a rare moment when our laptop is free for me to use. Sharing it with an eighteen year old really means 95:5. She has it 95% of the time while I’m on it when allowed. Which is when she’s sleeping.

So all these blogs that I have incubating inside my head never make it to my fingers until rare moments such as these. I’m stealing time. While there is nothing like writing in the moment, the compositions in my mind get edited and take a different shape as I type. But I’m not complaining. The light of day is the light of day.

There is a large table at our hotel’s employee cafeteria where the Filipinos find themselves at lunch. We’re all from different departments – Housekeeping, Concierge, Front Desk, Stewarding, Kitchen, Storeroom – yet there is no such thing as rank & file or manager among us when we are together. We are just Filipinos who now call America home and who long for the Philippines in varying degrees. The streets of Cubao, the posh of The Fort and Alabang, the quiet of Ilocos drift into our conversations always followed by the question: “Kelan kayo huling umuwi sa atin?” (“When did you last go home?”) Continue reading →