I loved my mom too late—far too late. As a kid, I hated her. I was a daddy’s boy, not a mama’s boy. I didn’t see it then, but she was always the one who stayed. She treated me like a son. My dad treated me like a tool. We fought all the time. I avoided her, resented her. And every time they argued, I took my dad’s side—blindly. Not realizing I was standing with the one who broke her. And I regret that more than anything. It wasn’t until I grew older—old enough to really listen to understand the quiet pain in family conversations—that I saw the truth. They treated her badly.

Si Lola, maagang bumabangon, nagsisimula sa pagluluto—isang matamis na kwento ng saba mula sa aming bakuran, ng ube, ng kamote, ng landang na tila mutya, nagsasayaw sa mainit na gata. Siya’y nagluluto ng binignit. Ito’y kadalasang niluluto tuwing Biyernes Santo, isang tradisyon na ipinasa-pasa mula sa kanyang mga magulang, at isang handog sa amin na walang katumbas na tamis. Ang buong kusina napupuno ng init, ng tamis na yakap, ng simula ng paghihintay.

Whenever somebody finds out that I am a lesbian, it always garners a mixed bag of reactions. Some people would immediately have this expression on their face like things suddenly clicked into place, while others would have such a huge reaction like they weren’t expecting me to be one. It was sort of understandable, given that I never really… look like a lesbian? Maybe it’s the lack of carabiners.