When I was eleven years old, I spent a month in the Philippines. I stayed in the city Manila at my grandmother’s house, which was small in an overcrowded neighborhood. I slept on the floor under a mosquito net, and at night I was fascinated by strange, fluorescent flying insects. Then waking to the balut man yelling in the early hours of morning, “Balut!” He elongated the U like he was making a goal. I rode a jeepney, too, and ate lots of street food. My strongest memory was the heat. The humidity sat in the air, thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe.
This is a brief summary. But I want to write more about this experience and others that informed me as a child. I’ve thought about writing a memoir for some time now. I started a new writer’s group: The Tesseract. So far, I have one other for sure member. Hopefully I can a couple more people join. The second meeting is online and will be a part workshop, part discussion on writing memoirs. I’m still working on Wayward Son, but hopefully this project will begin before the end of 2023.
BTW, Mahal Kita means I love you in Tagalog.
The picture above and below was taken at Wondercon. I can’t remember the name of the booth.
Cyn B 