I remember. When we used to walk along the sidewalk. Just got off the bus, and we were holding hands while walking. Paying adherence to the eternal cliche, but no care at all. We were happy. As we passed the grocery store, and the little food stall. Had wondered aloud whether we could eat those cold sunny side ups, hotdogs and fried fish for breakfast. Then a stray cat. Was strangely amused at your phobia. I remember. One time I took your hand and guided you toward a kitten. You were half blind, not wearing contacts, and you literally jumped and scampered from left to right. You, pounding my right arm as I grinned. Bad me. I wanted you to conquer your fear. And I kept saying sorry as we passed the tricycle drivers. So early in the morning and they already stank. Did they take a bath that morning? Some of them blocked our path, and we briefly let go of our hands as we navigated the throngs of people coming our way. Then we had turned left, had passed the little fruit stand. We linked, HHWW again. Few more meters we came to the pan de sal store. Then you would tug at my jacket, urging me to buy you bread. Sometimes I did. Often I didn’t. Kept saying it would ruin your breakfast. You had pouted during the times I said no. We walked a few lengths. Then we had gotten home. Lucrecia would surely be awake. She’d always greet you first, because she loved you more than her biological uncle. I was amused, that was okay. Then she’d ask for her treat. You two would go outside and I wouldn’t be suprised when you return bearing bread and cake. Stubborn you… I remember. You are a sweet little thing, and I love you, and I don’t understand why I kept saying no. And during this time of separation, I regret every time I lost my temper or said no. But such is life. Come october, everything will be perfect. I promise you.
