The night-out we were having was crucial, a reunion of sorts, and it would determine if I’d been a fool or just half a fool to have come back to General Santos City.
My cousin Dondon waved goodbye to our grandmother. “Don’t worry, La,” he said. “We’ll take care of your favorite grandson.”
“You better,” Lola said. “I know Ramil is a good boy, and you two are tonto!”
“La, that’s no fair!” Thirdy, another cousin of mine, complained, smiling at Lola. I’m sure it’s the smile he used to charm the local beauty queens. “We’ve never done anything that tainted the name of the Esguerras.”
“Hala,” Lola dismissed us with a wave of her hand, “you kids do whatever you want. You are all old enough.”
Lola closed the opened leaf of the double door, straining a bit in its weight. The large door, made of narra and carved with intricate eagle figures, was a reminder that the big house had once accommodated people who came in droves, when Lolo was still alive and ruling the city as mayor.
Thirdy closed the gate of the family compound. “We thought you’d forgotten Gensan,” he told me. “How long has it been, fifteen years?”
Dear Ms. Long Lean Limbs,