The Last Time I Saw Nanay
by Ivy Terasaka

She has aged since my last visit. Her arms, which used to be round and fat, now sagged; the skin wrapped tightly around the bone, the fat that once clung to her arms were now soft sacks that hang under them. She didn't lift her feet as we walked, but dragged her slippers forward.

The air was sweet with the scent of mango. Leaves swished in the blowing of the wind. I could not see but I knew that the fruit trees were abundant.

Grandma paused and slipped money into my jeans's backpocket, as she always did everytime I left home as a student.

"I don't need your money anymore, Nanay, I'm earning millions! Of yen."I joked.

"A blind old woman like me has no more use for money."

"OK, I'll use this to buy you a perfume in Manila."

"Use it to buy a present for your husband in Tokyo."

We have reached the yard. It was early in the morning. Everything was black. The roosters still had an hour of sleep before they would announce the sunrise. The air was sweet with the scent of mango. Leaves swished in the blowing of the wind. I could not see but I knew that the fruit trees were abundant. It was summer. The mango tree by the wooden gate was covered with a net,—a shield from birds that pecked at the mangoes. The avocado tree at this time of the year only needed a good shaking to get the fruit. From the door I could see the dim outline of a papaya tree, supported by poles to keep the fruits from breaking the bark down.

"Get in the car now!"Papa called.

Grandma sniffed behind me. I didn't look back. I was afraid I would cry with her, as I have done when I left home at thirteen to go to school in Manila. I cried then because I did not want to miss the porridge with grated coconut meat that she always served for breakfast. I wanted to spend all my evenings laying with her in a hammock, which gently swung as my head rested on her arm, as I smelled the perfume in her chest, as she sung,

"Dandansuy, I will leave you behind,
I will go home to the Island Payao,
And if you should come to miss me,
Just cast a glance to the Island Payao."

The trees in the yard were still solid shadows that swayed with the wind. I wished the roosters would not notice the coming of the days. And nobody would shake the avocado tree.

I hopped in the car. Now, as strongly as the first time I left home, I did not want to leave. Since she lost her eyesight, her agility had quickly melted. The woman who, in my childhood, in land purifying rituals sat alone in the middle of the ricefield and beat demons and bad spirits away from the land, the matriarch who had the power to stop my father's punishing belt from hitting my hips, now sat in a cushioned chair all day, her hair all white, legs limp and slow. And on a high-cholesterol native diet that included coconut in every dish; rice with grated coconut meat, fish boiled in coconut milk, vegetables sauted in coconut puree, I was afraid she would go before I could return.

"Take care of yourself and your husband,"she said. Heaven is above you anywhere you go, keep God as your constant companion."

"See you next year, Nanay."I drew her hand to my forehead to seek blessings.

She made the sign of the cross in front of me and whispered, "Go with God."

God, why do I have to live in Japan?

The car pulled out of the garage. "It's too early, I'm still sleepy,"I yawned, and rubbed my eyes. I watched Nanay walk back to the bright porch which was still framed by darkness. Her bent back towards me, she held a cane with one hand, the other fumbled for the handkerchief in her pocket. The trees in the yard were still solid shadows that swayed with the wind. I wished the roosters would not notice the coming of the days. And nobody would shake the avocado tree.

© Ivy Terasaka

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