Sayang

He does sayang me a lot

“Um, okay...” Rosa glanced at the blank boxes. “Cried over spilled milk. Six letters, third letter is a...” “Sayang,” said the old man cheerfully. “Sayang. It fits, po...” “Sayang. That's what I say whenever I spill some milk.” He cackled. “With these weak wrists and fingers, I say sayang several times a day! Give me another.”

But going back to my dad, he died four years ago of leukemia. So he never met my daughter and he never reached the date of our wedding. So sayang. So I decided I wanted to write a book about him. I wanted to write a book for him and about him, for my daughter so she would get to know her lolo. And I was really stumped. Wala akong maisip about a story. This was the time when I just wrote Tuwing Sabado.