chicken pot pie

I had to buy some chickens this morning for lunch for the participants of the seminar on how to make Buko (coconut) Pie. No more chickens left at Noy Poldo’s in Masagongsong so had to drive on to Agta Beach about 5km down the road. I sat on the swing hanging from the Talisay tree on the beach as I waited for my birds to be slaughtered and plucked. No one here so early. Everything seeming so gray from the recent storms which have seemed to linger forever. Debris floating in the sea, Dalutan Island in the distance, the air salty and nostalgic. At least it’s not hot.

Apo and Edito would have been with me if it was last year. But they’re both in Manila now, Apo working as a janitor in an office building and Edito as a security guard at a girlie bar in Angeles City. Beneath my feet the gray sea washes up on the sand where Larry, Hans, and I drew lines and played jumping games while sipping on beers one sunny Sunday. Larry’s still around here on the weekends when he’s off from school, but Hans got the boot from the convent when Fr. (then Frater) Sam arrived...

After fumbling around trying to tie a slippery bag of smelly chickens to the back of the motorcycle, I drove back to Kawayan. I bought a extra chicken just because I felt like it, which was a good idea since it turned out to be Na Edad's, my favorite laundry lady's, birthday. I forgot the icecream this year, but a raw chicken seemed to make her happy.