“Ma, This One’s for You”
by Mark
When I was 10, I wasn’t playing with toys or sleeping in on weekends. I was out before the sun, carrying a basket of bread through the streets. “Pan de sal, mainit pa!” That was my daily chorus, hoping someone would open their gate and buy a few pieces so we could afford a simple meal.
Behind those early mornings was you — Ma Jinky.
You were always up before me, hands deep in dough, hair tied up, wearing that old apron with flour stains that somehow made you look like a superhero. You never complained, even when your back hurt, even when the earnings were small