LOVE, IN SPITE OF by Valerie T. Our house is divided into two parts / when my mother comes for a visit / Every weekend she brings potatoes, string beans, and meat for lunch / In one side of the house, the aroma of asado and ginisang Baguio beans roams like noon breeze / my mother’s laughter and sudden sighs of exasperation over a week’s worth / of unfolded clothes are plastered / all over the walls / In another side of the house / my father dances to his favorite music / his children’s laughter / and always, there is the wild scent of adobo / and fluffy scrambled eggs, which I still try to master / In this corner, / sometimes there is the painful silence I try to / bury with my hands / but most of the time / I do not have to dig any more soil / I had built an entire graveyard / over the past years / for all my broken bones / and over time / it has become a garden / where butterflies seek for refuge / and birds build nests from fallen leaves / Every weekend / I come home to the same house that taught me / to love, in spite of //
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