GRAND
Elsa Valmidiano
A lazy summer afternoon when kindergarten was over and afternoons were eternal I’d sit on the sofa with Lilang, her soft endless wrinkles chasing each other around the tips of her eyes and the drop of her cheeks. The whistle of the breeze, the angin against the avocado tree in the backyard would echo shadow breezes against banana trees in the land we left behind. The weight of her eyelids would focus on the end of a thread which she would effortlessly push through the hole of a pin while singing Ilokano love songs under her breath. I’d play with the soft flap of her skin swinging gently from her arms and she’d push me away laughing while trying to sew. When she saw I was bored she’d pretend to fail at pushing the thread through the hole of the pin and ask for my help. My soft little hands would push the end of that almost invisible thread effortlessly through and she would be full of awe as if I had granted her salvation. 49
