L’amour, CA - The Atlantic
Isa couldn’t wait to leave the Philippines. But when we pull into an American town of foggy streets and gray, concrete houses, she looks confused, then panicked.
M y sister, Isa, speaks English and Tagalog. But one word, she could say in many languages: koigokoro , beminnen , mahal , amor . “It’s the most important thing,” she used to say, “the only thing. L-O-V-E. Love .” So when we learned that we would be moving to California, to a city called L’amour, she called it home, the place where we were always meant to be. I believed her. This was January of 1974, our final days in the Philippines. Isa was sixteen, I was eight, and we were from San Quinez, a small southern village surrounded by sugar-cane fields and cassava groves, with a single paved road
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