This house has been standing for a very long time, and it holds so many memories that will never fade. I started living in my lola’s house when I was 13 years old, back when my mom and dad separated. During that time, everything felt confusing and painful, but staying with my lola somehow made things lighter. My siblings and I all stayed there with her, and even though life was hard, we felt safe because of her love.
Later on, we moved with my older sister to the proper, at my lolo’s house, since it was closer to our school. But no matter where we went, lola’s house always felt like our real home. Every time we visited, it felt like the walls welcomed us back with open arms. That house saw us grow up — it heard our laughter, our cries, and even our little arguments. It was full of life and warmth because that’s where our family shared the most genuine moments together.
That house was also special because it was where my lola spent most of her life with my lolo. They built their life together there — raising their children, cooking meals side by side, and growing old together. Every part of that house had a story of them — the small kitchen where lola cooked while lolo played his favorite radio, the porch where they drank coffee every morning, and the room where they prayed together before going to sleep. You could really feel the love they shared inside those walls.
But everything changed when the 6.9 earthquake happened. The shaking was so strong that it destroyed many houses, including lola’s. Even our place was affected too — the walls cracked and some things fell, but thankfully, we were all safe. I was so thankful when I found out that no one in our family was hurt. But when we came home and saw the damage, my heart broke. The house was totally destroyed — the roof had fallen, the walls were cracked, and everything looked so different.
When I saw my lola’s face, I could see the pain in her eyes even though she kept saying she was fine. She tried to smile and said, “It’s okay, what matters is we’re safe,” but I knew deep inside that she was hurting. That house wasn’t just a place for her — it was her life, her memories, her comfort. She and lolo went through so many storms and calamities before, and she never left that house no matter how strong the typhoon was. She always said, “Home is where your heart belongs.” That’s why seeing it fall apart because of the earthquake was truly heartbreaking.
Standing in front of the broken house, I realized that a home is not only made of walls, wood, or concrete. A home is made of the love, care, and memories shared inside it. Even if the house is gone, the moments we had there will stay forever in our hearts.
Lola’s house may have been destroyed, but the love that filled it for 20 years will always live on.