Chapter 26: Odd One
Vicente stopped in front of the bamboo fence, hands behind his back. His smile widened, and I had never seen his eyes twinkle the way they did just then.
The house before us was a humble nipa hut, only large enough to accommodate a room or two. A tall talisay tree rose beside it, casting a wide shadow over the yard. A woman, about my age, was sweeping beneath the shade, gathering dead leaves into a small mound.
We stood there for a few moments, listening to the sound of the walis-tingting brushing against the dark soil, before Vicente finally spoke.
"Nay," he said.
It was only a single word, but I heard it carry a voluminous story.
The woman abruptly halted her task. Although a bit bent with age, her grey-haired head snapped in our direction. Her wrinkled face brightened, and the broom and the shawl around her shoulders dropped to the ground as she ran toward Vicente.
"Anak!" she cried, as Vicente rushed to meet her. The two of them collided in a tight embrace.
"Why did you stop writing to us?" she said, teary-eyed, her hands on his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," he replied.