When my siblings and I were younger, summer means a vacation in our ancestral home in the province. Every morning, my lola would prepare breakfast - fresh eggs from the farm, fresh carabao's milk, fried dried fish, tapa and sinangag. After that, my siblings would run to the fields and play, while I would go with my grandmother back to the farm. We would feed the animals and take a rest under the big mango tree while we watch the caretakers scrub the feeders in the farmhouse sinks. After that, lola and I would pick out fruits and vegetables from her garden and head back home. Evenings were spent in the living room listening to lolo's and lola's stories. Sigh, I really miss those days.