As the first episode of the Philippines Graphic Literary Workshop (PGLW) slowly came to its conclusion on February 28, we knew that we had one more thing that we can offer our bright young fellows: a starting platform for their creative endeavors. Here, we present one of their final outputs from the workshop. We also asked them to provide an artwork that they think best represents their stories. Read on.
A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead as the door slammed shut. Then I heard it — thud after thud. The footsteps only grew louder.
It seemed urgent — impatient even.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Here they come.
“We’re home!” I turned away from the stove to face my daughter as she entered the kitchen with my husband.
She was still wearing her uniform — pristine white blouse and dark green skirt that reached past her knees. Not a single wrinkle in sight. And her hair — still tied up neatly in a ponytail. Not a single strand out of place.
I made sure of it.
“My teacher just gave me back my essay, and guess what?” She beamed as she took her seat at the dining table, where everything was placed where they should be — dinner knife and spoon on the right, and dinner fork and napkin on the left.
I set everything up perfectly. I made sure of it.
“Perfect score?” I asked as I turned the stove off.
“Yes! And the best in my class.” My daughter bragged cheekily.
“What else did you expect, honey? She’s always been our little genius.” My husband added with pride as he sat across from my daughter.
I laughed a little as I took the rice that I set aside earlier and brought it to the dining table, before going back to get the adobo.
My daughter’s favorite.
I stared at them from the kitchen counter and smiled at the sight.
Such a pretty thing — that girl. Smart too. Just like how I raised her.
She’s growing up to be the picture-perfect daughter. I made sure of it.
Too bad her mom will never be able to witness it.
I made sure of that too.
And with the pot in my hands, I sauntered towards the table and placed it in the middle.
Then, I sat. At the head of the table. Exactly where I belonged.
The pot steamed quietly between us.
Gleanna Crizzen Abello is currently a freshman-in-standing pursuing a BA in Philosophy at the University of the Philippines Diliman. She writes short stories and flash fiction, often focusing on women’s experiences, emotions and themes of vulnerability. She continues to develop her craft through academic study, writing workshops, and personal projects.
