Echoes of Two Islands

Luis sighed as he climbed the rickety ladder into his grandparents’ attic. The musty smell of old wood and forgotten memories filled his nostrils. At 16, he’d rather be out with his friends, but his Lola Rosario had insisted he help clean out the attic before they moved to a smaller house.

“Ay, dios mío,” he muttered, switching on his phone’s flashlight. Dust motes danced in the beam as he swept it across piles of boxes and old furniture. Something glinted in the corner, catching his eye. Curious, Luis made his way over, nearly tripping on a loose floorboard.

It was an old trunk, its brass fittings tarnished but still gleaming faintly. A faded label read “Familia Reyes-Santos.” Luis recognized it as a combination of his grandparents’ surnames — his Lolo Felipe was a Santos from the Philippines, while Lola Rosario was a Reyes from Puerto Rico.

With effort, Luis pried open the trunk. Inside, he found a treasure trove of old photos, letters, and curious objects. One item immediately caught his attention — a small, carved wooden figure with a stern face.

“What are you doing up there, apo?” Lolo Felipe’s voice drifted up from below.

“I found something, Lolo!” Luis called back. “Can you come see?”

A few minutes later, Lolo Felipe’s weathered face appeared at the top of the ladder. His eyes widened when he saw the wooden figure in Luis’s hands.

“Ay, I haven’t seen that in years,” he said softly, taking the figure. “This is an anito — a spirit statue from the Philippines. It belonged to my grandfather.”

Luis looked at the figure with new interest. “What’s it for?”

Lolo Felipe smiled. “Our ancestors believed these statues housed nature spirits that could protect the family. This one…” he turned it over, revealing a name carved on the base, “…this one is for Makiling, the spirit of the mountain near my hometown.”

As they continued exploring the trunk’s contents, Luis found himself fascinated by the glimpses into his family’s past. There were old letters in Spanish and Tagalog, sepia-toned photos of stern-faced relatives, and even a small Puerto Rican flag.

“Lolo,” Luis said hesitantly, “I never really asked much about where you and Lola came from. Could you tell me more?”

Lolo Felipe’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Of course, apo. But this story is not just mine to tell. Let’s go downstairs and talk with your Lola too.”

Over the next few hours, Luis listened in rapt attention as his grandparents shared stories of their lives in the Philippines and Puerto Rico, and how they met and fell in love in Philadelphia. As they talked, Luis felt a growing connection to the cultures that had shaped his family.

“There’s so much I don’t know,” Luis realized. “I want to learn more.”

Lola Rosario patted his hand. “That’s wonderful, mi amor. But some stories can’t just be told — they need to be discovered. Why don’t you see what else you can find out?”

Inspired, Luis began a journey of discovery that would take him across Philadelphia. Armed with the items from the trunk and his grandparents’ stories, he set out to uncover more about his heritage.

His first stop was the local Filipino community center. As he approached the colorful building, decorated with banners for an upcoming festival, Luis felt a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Inside, he met Maria, a friendly volunteer who was intrigued by the anito statue.

“Oh, this is beautiful!” she exclaimed. “You know, we’re having a cultural workshop next week where we’ll be talking about pre-colonial Filipino beliefs. Would you like to come?”

Luis nodded eagerly. “That would be great! Could I bring this to show everyone?”

Over the next few weeks, Luis immersed himself in learning about Filipino culture. He attended workshops, tried traditional foods, and even started learning a few words in Tagalog. The anito statue became a conversation starter, helping him connect with others in the community.

One day, while practicing a traditional Filipino dance at the center, Luis overheard a conversation that piqued his interest.

“Did you hear about the new Puerto Rican exhibit at the museum?” one woman asked another.

Luis’s ears perked up. He hadn’t even known there was an exhibit about Puerto Rico. Excited to explore the other half of his heritage, he made plans to visit the museum that weekend.

At the museum, Luis found himself standing before a display of artifacts similar to those he’d found in the trunk. A tour guide was explaining the significance of various items to a small group.

“Excuse me,” Luis interrupted, pulling out a small charm from his pocket. “Could you tell me about this? My grandmother gave it to me, but I don’t know much about it.”

The guide, a woman named Carmen, examined the charm closely. “This is an azabache — a jet stone amulet. In Puerto Rican folklore, it’s believed to protect against the evil eye. Where did you get this?”

Luis explained about finding it in the trunk, and soon found himself deep in conversation with Carmen about Puerto Rican history and traditions. She invited him to join a local cultural group that met regularly to celebrate and preserve Puerto Rican heritage.

As weeks turned into months, Luis’s journey of discovery continued. He attended Filipino festivals and Puerto Rican parades. He learned to cook adobo and mofongo. He practiced both Tagalog and Spanish, often mixing up words to his grandparents’ amusement.

But more than just learning facts and traditions, Luis found himself connecting with a vibrant, diverse community. He made friends with other young people exploring their multicultural identities, sharing stories and experiences.

One warm evening, as Luis sat on the porch with his grandparents, Lola Rosario asked, “So, apo, how do you feel about your heritage now?”

Luis thought for a moment before answering. “I feel… whole. Like I’ve discovered parts of myself I never knew were missing. But also like I’m part of something bigger — a tapestry of cultures and histories all woven together.”

Lolo Felipe nodded approvingly. “That’s beautiful, Luis. Remember, your identity is not just about the past — it’s also about what you choose to carry forward.”

“I know,” Luis said, a determined glint in his eye. “And I want to keep learning, keep connecting. There’s so much more to discover.”

As the sun set over Philadelphia, casting a warm glow over the city’s diverse neighborhoods, Luis felt a deep sense of belonging. He was Filipino, Puerto Rican, American — and proudly, uniquely himself.

The journey that had begun in a dusty attic had opened up a world of connections, stories, and possibilities. And Luis knew this was just the beginning of his adventure in understanding and celebrating his rich, complex heritage.