Cynthia Sycip

I was loved by my grandmother. I called her “grandma” but she was my grand aunt. My ego entertains the visual picture of me having been born and her falling in love with me at first sight.

At two, my grandaunt sent me to the best British pre-school and my teacher was Mrs. Huey, an expat who reminds me of a gentler version of Queen Elizabeth except that she had no handbag. It was Mrs. Huey who taught me how to memorize “The Lord’s Prayer” and how to read and write.

My favorite lullaby was Tom Dooley, which admittedly was strange of me to like. The way she sang it that soothed me.Then there was Hi Lili Hi Lili Hi Lo, which is enough to discourage anyone from even thinking that romantic love can be gloriously blissful.It was the familiar voice and scent which mattered, and her songs- no matter how outlandish-kept all the demons away.

I loved my dog, Bugsey.