These things I remember

I sat on the floor with my five-year-old nephew Valiant tonight. I quieted my mind as I busied my hands, awed at how fancy Play-Doh has become as compared to how it was during my time. The set now comes with a press that dispenses the clay into the 3D mold attached to it. Amazing.

Earlier, Valiant had invited me to his room so we could play together and when I said I had to run off for a quick dinner meeting, he urged me to cancel it and just stay home. “Pity your meeting, Tita Lucy?” he said when I told him I just could not cancel.

I asked Juliana to play with him instead. I snapped a quick photo of the two before I left, busy as they were with the colorful clay as they manipulated it into different shapes, nine years between them. I get all sappy thinking of how much Juliana has grown — she is now already 14 years old, and just an inch or so shorter than my 5”7“ frame. I remember her at five years old when, just like Valiant now, she wanted me to be with her — to bake, or sit and color and draw, watch Anastasia and Joseph, The Little Mermaid and Aladdin, read a story, watch her do and be whatever.

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