Nanay and Tatay, at 32

MY parents celebrate their 32nd year of marriage today. I can’t imagine growing up without them. I haven’t seen two people more in love.

Yesterday, we found them bickering—Nanay chiding Tatay about his dog, a fact that torments my mother day after day. She has always been against the canines at home, what with the destruction of her newly planted shrubs which David used to uproot; or their indelible scratches on the furniture, whose varnish my mother painstakingly tries to preserve. After eating dessert, though, my Nanay asked Tatay if they can spend their anniversary at a seafood restaurant, which Tatay doesn’t care for.

“Sure,” said Tatay, holding Nanay’s hand, now injured with many IV insertions sustained during her treatment, her tendons aged after performing thousands of tooth extractions and fillings. “Let’s eat wherever you like.”