I was born in Manila, Philippines, an only child.  Raised in our hometown of San Pedro, Laguna, without a care in the world. My parents were strict, but I was a happy child.  I didn’t mind having neither brothers nor sisters.  I enjoyed quality time with my lola (‘grandmother’ in Tagalog), cousins, aunts, and uncles, but mostly the time I spent with my parents, especially my father.  I was daddy’s little girl.
He took me to many places, like parks, company functions, beaches, and even our local bank one day, because he happened to see a Filipina ‘mega movie star’ leisurely chatting with the bank manager — whom he knew.  So we went, got my photo op… and to this day, I still have that photo.  Most of the time, I hung out at the store where he worked because I knew there would be a pretty outfit waiting just for me when the new shipments arrived.
My mom and dad came from humble beginnings — having gone through what I can only imagine today, or perhaps have seen in a made-for-television episode.  They were hard workers; successful at what they did.  My mom was a floor supervisor for a large corporation.  My father was a senior accountant/store manager for a large department store.  Moreover, my father was quite a storyteller, thus never missing an opportunity to share them with me and at family occasions. Stories about his childhood, his parents, and my favorite, of how he met my mother.

And so it is, the story of our lives and…the beginning of a newfound adventure.

Fast-forwarding our time capsule, life didn’t come easy in the beginning.  We gave up stability and left behind a large family circle from the motherland, only to start all over again.  My mother took odd jobs and so did my father.  He also went back to college to hone in on his accounting skills.  But despite their busy schedules, I was never taken for granted.  I didn’t like our situation, but, in all fairness, I gave it a chance alongside them, and we supported one another.
As days went by, I found myself with new friends from all parts of the world.  After only a few months of our arrival in the U.S., we moved out of my aunt and uncle’s place into a studio apartment, and after a couple of years, to a home we can at last call our own.  Most of my adolescent and adult years were spent in the Bay Area, from San Francisco to Daly City.  I met a man I was fond of; things got complicated; I fell out of fondness, and our marriage dissolved.  But with absolutely no regrets, we had a son.

Life goes on with a full-time job, full-time school and balancing a personal life in between.  My parents were always my saving grace.  They took care of my son whilst I pursued a bachelor’s degree.
All the while, not looking for a new relationship, I noticed a young man in class.  We hardly said a word to each other, just timid glances and hellos.  When class was over for the quarter, we said our goodbyes… and I thought I would never see him again.
Alas, a new semester began, having only one course left to finish my long-awaited bachelor’s degree.  I didn’t want to take this particular course and was ready to drop the class.  Without hesitation, I stood up and voilà…the French guy from last semester appeared.  He, too, needed this one course to finish his bachelor’s degree.

I would have never dreamed that our stolen glances and timid hellos in the corridor of the university would somehow blossom into friendship, love, marriage, and family.