Any Day with You

by Mae Respicio

  Dad gives me a What’s going on? look.

  “I’ve planned a little presentation for Tatang, so if you’ll all take your seats, please. Toby and crew, come on up.”

  A few of the younger cousins take Toby’s hand and walk to the patio. Toby hangs a fresh lei that one of our aunties made over Tatang’s head.

  The younger cousins line up and I hand them the mic.

  When I was little the aunties and uncles always made us kids perform at gatherings—the only thing I ever hated about our parties. Today’s an exception.

  “One, two, three, go!” I say. The cousins shout:

  You better be believing

  That Tatang soon is leaving!

  We don’t want you to go!

  So here, eat some halo-halo!

  Everyone cracks up, and they bow. Toby runs back into the crowd, straight into our dad’s arms.

  I take the mic again, and people I’ve known my whole life stare at me. My stomach churns but I remind myself: this is for Tatang.

  I spot Mom’s students and wave them up. They form a half moon around Tatang, and I introduce them.

  First, Avery shares the story of how Tatang spoke to their class and how it inspired them.

  “I went home and asked my grandparents to tell me about the day they came to America and I recorded their stories,” Avery says.

  “I interviewed my parents about growing up in the Philippines. We never talked about it before and I’m happy we finally did,” says the falling-asleep headphones guy, and he hands the microphone back to me.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about my Tatang leaving,” I say, hearing the shakiness in my own voice. “He’s the only great-grandpa I’ve ever known. I don’t want you to leave, Tatang. I can’t imagine our house without you in it every day, but the thing is…”

  I look out at the audience and Mom’s tearing up.

  “The thing is, you’ve given our family so much, like a loving home and our start in this country, and the only reason I’m here is because of you. You taught me how to dream. I’ll miss you, but I’m glad you’re getting to go home. You’re my home, and that’s what makes it okay, because that will never change. And I hope we can visit you during breaks instead of going to Disneyland.” Everyone laughs.

  “Thank you, anak,” Tatang says.

  I take a flat dark velvety box from my pocket. It’s larger than my palm. The package at our door yesterday wasn’t from Lainey—it was this.

  “I spent the summer trying to find the perfect going-away gift for you, and that didn’t work out, but I have something else. Mom’s student Avery helped me.” I open the case to show him. “It’s a Congressional gold medal for the time you served in the war. You went through a lot and, well, it doesn’t make up for the years you weren’t recognized and all you went through, but it’s to thank you…for all the sacrifices you’ve made. I’m proud of you, Tatang.”

  I hand him the box.

  Carefully, Tatang lifts the medal. It catches the light and glints.

  “Read it,” I say.

  On one side the medal has three Filipino American soldiers wearing battle gear. It reads:

  FILIPINO VETERANS OF WORLD WAR II

  He flips it to the other side:

  UNITED STATES ARMY FORCES IN THE FAR EAST

  DUTY TO COUNTRY

  BATAAN & CORREGIDOR

  LUZON

  LEYTE

  SOUTHERN PHILIPPINES

  1941 1945 1946

  ACT OF CONGRESS 2016

  For the first time in my life, it seems that my great-grandpa has no words. He holds the medal up to his heart and presses it there as everyone starts cheering and clapping. Dad has Toby on his shoulders and Mom’s next to them, crying. Uncle Roy hugs her.

  One by one the college students walk up to Tatang, taking his hand, bringing it to their foreheads, and saying, “Mano po.” It means “Your hand, please.” It’s a traditional Filipino way to receive the blessing of an elder. Tatang looks at me and his eyes fill with tears.

  “My dear Kaia, you make me burst with happiness. You always have and you always will.”

  Abby’s filming, and I’m glad. Except for Mom’s students, I hadn’t told anyone about the surprise, and I forgot to ask someone to record this. I’m sure my family will watch it many times, but I don’t think I’ll ever need to watch it again to hold this feeling.

  Tatang, my parents, Toby, and I pack into the minivan and drive to the Children’s Science Museum downtown.

  I grab a program that says Eclipse Party! as we walk into the museum’s grassy outdoor area. All kinds of people mill about to celebrate the rare occasion when the sun disappears. There’s good stuff in tents, like making your own pinhole camera and “Ask an Astrophysicist.” We peek into that one and see scientists in lab coats standing around chatting.

  “Ooh!” Dad says as he marches up to one of them.

  We spot a huge basket of viewing glasses. “Let’s claim ours,” Tatang says. He hands me and Mom a pair of flimsy paper shades and helps Toby with his.

  “Thanks,” I say. I push mine on and we step outside the tent.

  “Look up, what do you see?” Tatang asks.

  We all look up.

  “Hmm…nothing yet,” Mom says as Dad joins us. He has his glasses on too.

  That’s when I spot it.

  “There! It’s happening!” The sun’s in the sky, big and round and bright, but it’s as if a black circle is starting to slide over it. And even though it’s darkening, the light’s still there, peeking through. It will never go out entirely.

  All around us people tilt their heads to the sky in awe.

  * * *

  After the eclipse party we drive to Camp Art Attack for our movie premiere. We walk up to the high school auditorium when I spot it: a real red carpet!

  “May I?” Tatang asks, and he offers me his arm.

  The auditorium buzzes. It’s not the same as winning a big contest, but it’s pretty awesome. Trey and Abby and I are going back to Ocean Gardens before school starts to screen our movie, and Tatang will join by video conference—Cynthia and Harold’s idea.

  There’s a giant projection screen and lots of balloons and chairs set up. Lainey would love it, so I take a quick picture to send.

  “You guys made it!” I hear a familiar voice.

  What? I scan the crowd—

  “Lainey!” I gasp.

  She flings her arms around me. I have no idea why she’s back early, but my parents must have known because they hook their arms around each other’s waists and smile as they watch us, letting me get the first hug.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” I say.

  Out of nowhere I feel the weight of this summer, with all its ups and downs coming at me from every direction. My eyes get tingly. I do the only thing I can: bury my face into my sister’s shoulder and feel every moment of sadness and joy.

  Lainey steps back, holding my hands. “I’m happy to see you. Sorry I missed the eclipse, Kai-Kai. Uncle Roy was picking me up at the airport.”

  “We went out for root beer floats instead,” Uncle Roy says, squeezing my shoulder.

  “Saved you some cool glasses.” I hold them up and she laughs. “Why are you back early?” I ask.

  “I had to be at your premiere! And I couldn’t let Tatang leave without the three of us hanging out first….Share Bears tonight…big-time!”

  “This was all your sister’s idea,” Dad says to me.

  “Yep. I was starting to get so homesick!” she says. “But the main reason I’m back is because I wanted to have more sister adventures before college starts.” We beam at each other. “You’ll have to surf in the Philippines without me, Tatang. At least until we can all get over to see you.”

  It would have been ju
st the two of them at the end of Lainey’s trip, and she gave that up—for me.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Tatang says, putting his arms around us both.

  “Everybody, please take your seats,” Eliza says. Abby and Dave sit next to each other and I think I see their elbows touching.

  The movies begin, and after each one we hoot and give a standing ovation. When we get to ours, my family laughs so hard at the bloopers. It’s Tatang who jumps up from his seat and starts the applause as our credits roll.

  After celebrating all the movies we head home, where Mom and Uncle Roy cook a Filipino meal (ube cupcakes for dessert, naturally) and Lainey and I make sure Tatang’s packed properly for his trip in a few days. We follow our dinner with swim time in the pool, thanks to Dad, who pushes me and Lainey in.

  “Family, you wear me out…in the best way,” Uncle Roy says. “I should go. I need my beauty sleep.” He draws me and Lainey into a huge hug before leaving.

  Mom lets us stay up super late. We build a blanket fort in Lainey’s room, big enough for us, Tatang, and Toby, and bring in flashlights and a giant bowl of popcorn.

  “Who’s ready for a story?” Tatang shouts.

  “Hold on—don’t start without me!” I sprint to my room, grab my phone and a small tripod, and squeeze back under the tent to set it all up. I hit record. “Okay…go!”

  Tatang looks into the lens. “Have I told you the one about the mango tree from my childhood home?”

  “You would climb it and read comics from the highest branch,” Lainey says.

  “But only after I offered food and prayers to the engkantos who lived there. I didn’t want any bad luck to come my way.” He flicks on a flashlight under his chin and makes the creepiest face. Lainey, Toby, and I howl.

  If there’s anything my great-grandpa taught me, it’s to ask questions—loads of them—and we do that for hours:

  What would happen if you didn’t bring the engkantos food?

  What was it like riding a plane to California your first time?

  What’s the thing you can’t wait to see when you return home?

  Home. I get it now. Home is this very feeling.

  Tatang tells us every story he knows. Toby falls asleep across my lap and I stroke his hair. Even Mom and Dad squeeze in and we all hoot until the fort fluffs down around us, the sounds of my family filling every part of me.

  The airport is packed with people going in every direction, each one with a story to tell. We’re not allowed past the security checkpoint, so we say our farewells near the escalator. Tatang wants to make them quick.

  “How do I look?” he asks.

  “Ready for first class,” Uncle Roy says. Mom and Dad upgraded his ticket so he’d have a comfortable ride home.

  After all the hugging and crying and Mom telling him to text us the second he lands, Tatang says: “I’ll see you at Christmas, Kaia.”

  “What?” I look to my parents.

  “Booked our tickets the other night,” Dad says with a smile.

  I start jumping up and down. Lainey gives Tatang a high-five and I give him one more huge embrace—that’s the good part of goodbye.

  With that, my great-grandfather shuffles into the crowd, his shirt of flowers in every color and purple sneakers making him stand out. Halfway up the escalator he turns and waves. He mouths I love you.

  * * *

  After the airport we snake up the highway, a sparkly ocean blurring to one side. The car’s loaded up: towels, surfboards, sunscreen.

  Dad rolls down the windows.

  “Okay, everyone, take a deep breath!”

  Lainey snorts in as loudly as she can and we all bust up.

  On the beach I trace a heart and plant myself inside it, watching my family run into the water, waves chasing them over and over again. Uncle Roy swings Toby in circles and my parents hold hands, foam lapping at their ankles. Lainey paddles out solo on her board until I can only see her shadow framed by light.

  A plane flies overhead and I wonder what Tatang’s doing right now. Probably making friends with the passengers in his row. All kinds of thoughts hit me: how different home will feel, that I start seventh grade soon, how maybe Trey and Abby and I can enter another contest sometime….Then I remember:

  Kaia, where are your feet?

  I dig them into the rich, warm sand.

  I’m here, my family near and far and always a part of me no matter where I am.

  I stare out at the waves, rolling in a regular rhythm like a heartbeat. Even though I’m one small person beside the ocean, it makes me feel a part of something big.

  I imagine a movie camera looking down on me, then zooming out-out-out as wide and far as it can go until it reaches a million miles away, and I dissolve into a small blue marble. The Earth.

  I close my eyes. The sun wraps me in its warmth. I’m ready for anything and everything.

  A favorite childhood tradition of mine was when my family would sit around during gatherings to share Filipino folklore and history. My cousins and I got to hear all kinds of tales, everything from how my grandparents would leave food out for the engkantos (nature spirits) that lived in their tree (for good luck, of course), to our Papang’s brave memories of surviving the WWII Bataan Death March, to my family’s first moments in the United States. It wasn’t until later in life that I realized how meaningful it was to have these deep-seated stories—and to carry them with me. They’re every bit a part of who I am and how I see the world. Any Day with You came about because I wanted to ask the question: How do our family histories take root? What a joy to explore this through Kaia’s (very creative!) eyes.

  I have many people to thank for the making of this book!

  Much gratitude to my editor, Wendy Lamb, and to associate editor Dana Carey for their genius, patience, trust, care, and support. Wendy, thank you for helping me get to the heart of this story. This book changed drastically from the first draft to the last, and I’m grateful to have learned so much from you through every iteration.

  My appreciation to the always brilliant and lovely Sarah Davies, agent extraordinaire, for continuing to guide me through this journey.

  My admiration to designer Michelle Cunningham and illustrator Rebecca Mock for this book’s gorgeous cover, and a massive thanks to everyone at Random House, especially dynamic publicist Sydney Tillman and the Random House Children’s Books School and Library team.

  Writing can feel a little too solitary at times, and I’m thankful for the writer and librarian friends who’ve been so generous with their encouragement, and in lending their keen eyes to early portions of this novel: Cindy Baldwin, Cathy De Leon, Florante Ibanez, Amanda Rawson-Hill, Rachel Rodriguez, and Rachel Sarah.

  I’ve met many passionate educators along my publishing journey. Thanks for all that you do—and for championing my stories to your students!

  Thank you to my supportive parents, Restie and Tina, who on countless occasions have given me the gift of writing and revision time while hanging out with my boys and being awesome grandparents.

  Finally, all my love and appreciation to Mark, the most patient and caring life partner I could ever ask for. And to our boys Alden and Cael, thank you for helping me see the world through your love, your imagination, and your big ideas. You three are my home, always.

  Mae Respicio’s debut novel is The House That Lou Built, which received the Asian/Pacific American Librarians Association Honor Award in Children’s Literature and was an NPR Best Book of the Year. Mae lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and two sons. Like the main character in this book, she grew up hearing Filipino folktales and history from her family—though it wasn’t until much later that she learned to start asking questions.

  maerespicio.com

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