My Lolo was a live-stock vendor. He goes around every town to buy live chickens, pigs, cows and carabaos then sell them to the big markets. This was how he and his family got by. One normal Thursday afternoon, he was approached by his old neighbor, Manang Sita, an elderly woman with long, black hair. She approached him and told him that she and her husband wanted to sell him a dozen chickens. “Go to your Manong later to buy the chickens,” she told him. “Sure Mana, I’ll come by your house early in the morning.”

I only ever kept things that seemed like an important memory, but would literally just forget about their existence the next day until I saw them again during “Spring Cleaning.” There was one object that brought back something to talk about most.