Little Star

My mother will always be the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes (and my Dad's). Growing up, in an impoverished town in Manila, she had very little but remembers only a childhood of great happiness. She was the second youngest of five children and because they lived in a small house they all shared a big mat on which they slept together on the floor. For fun, they would play games with empty bottles and stones and, in the rainy season, race paper boats down the street. She was often chosen to go to the market to pick up groceries for the family, returning with a large basket in one hand and a squawking chicken in the other. I asked her what her favorite memory was, to which she replied the times my Lola (grandma) would take her to a restaurant in the province where she was treated to her favorite dish, pansit and pan de sal.

Through great perseverance she was finally able to buy my grandparents the new house she had dreamed of for ages, one where they could all fit and live comfortably.

I cherish these old photographs of her, they capture her vibrant spirit, so full of style and grace.

My mother's name is Estrellita, in Spanish it means; little star.

With my Lola