- margo soup
- 7.31.24
it’s hard to tell what i liked about this book but somehow i was charmed
- flame soup
- 7.26.24
ran into at least 3 strangers also reading this book rah what a delightful thing it is to be basic
- grandparent soup
- 7.23.24
photos of my grandparents: the weight of an arm connecting them behind the food-cluttered dining table, on gingham lawn chairs at a picnic, on a couch in the dim living room. my lola looks straight into the camera, no urge to turn the corners of her mouth if she does not want to. she does not put up a front. my lolo: grinning ear to ear. no one ever tells you how many photos you’ll end up in with another person when you meet them. but i think he was happy to be in them with her.
on saturday mornings when i was little, i sat in the squeaky high chair at my grandparents’ plastic-covered kitchen table. she let us watch spongebob as she mixed nesquik powder into giant cups of milk. when my lolo came in, they would throw words at each other, speeding into shouts. it was loud and harsh and all in tagalog. theirs was the most volatile relationship i can remember in my childhood. i didn’t have to understand a word they said. one time i asked my mom why they fought so much. she said i should ask them. i didn’t.
decades have passed since the yellow kitchen cartoon mornings. my grandparents bicker but they are too tired to raise their voices. my lola unwraps a popsicle for my lolo. they share a blanket on the sofa. he tells me how he got his driver’s license so he could drive her around. she remembers.