Lola Sabel, her hair as white as silk, her back bent under the weight of time, was sitting quietly on a rickety papag (bamboo bed) in the cramped kusina (kitchen) of her bahay na bato – her ancestral home in a town in Bulacan province. The smell of boiling adobo, the clatter of knives and chopping boards as her daughter-in-law prepared dinner, and the loud laughter of her son and his wife drifted in from the sala (living room), all blending into the familiar picture of the house that had been there for generations. She had lived here for most of her life, witnessing generations grow up and mature.

Now, nearly eighty years old, she lives with her eldest son and his wife, Ramon and Lani, and their two grandchildren.
Since moving in with her son, Lola Sabel’s life has not been the same. Ramon is gentle but weak, and he listens to his wife. Lani is resourceful, good at managing, but pragmatic and lacking in sophistication. Lola Sabel does not complain; She thought it was a blessing to have a place to rely on in her old age. She told herself to live simply, not to bother her children and grandchildren.

Kusina was the place she was most attached to. The rickety papag – where she leaned against it every afternoon, taking a nap after a long day – was like a close friend, a rare private corner in the always noisy house.

One morning, while she was sunbathing on the porch, Lani walked into the kitchen, looking at the papag with an annoyed expression:

“Mom, this bamboo bed is too cramped here. The kitchen doesn’t look neat. It’s also old, let’s move it to make the kitchen more spacious.” Her voice wasn’t exactly asking, but rather informing.

Lola Sabel paused. Her skinny hand holding the cup of salabat (ginger tea) trembled slightly. She looked at Lani, wanting to say something but then swallowed it back:

“Yes, do whatever you think is convenient.” – Her voice was as light as a breeze.

That afternoon, the papag was moved to the balkonahe (porch). The once cozy corner of the kitchen suddenly became cold. Lola Sabel moved to stay in the bodega (warehouse) next to the kitchen – filled with boxes of old things, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.

She did not complain, just kept quiet. Every meal, she still worked hard to cook and then retreated early to the small corner, leaving the dining table for her children and grandchildren. Ramon glanced at her a few times, his eyes filled with pity, but he turned away when he saw his wife frown.

A week later, early Sunday morning, the doorbell rang repeatedly.

Lani opened the door. At the door was a man in a black suit, wearing glasses, holding a briefcase:

“Excuse me, I am the lawyer – Atty. Miguel Reyes – representing Mr. Ernesto Santos, Lola Sabel’s real brother.”

Lani was stunned: “Real brother? But my mother said he died a long time ago…”

The lawyer said softly:
“Mr. Ernesto passed away last week in Sydney, Australia. Before he passed away, he left a will: all his assets, including three houses and a coconut farm in Quezon, worth an estimated ₱150 million, were left to his younger sister, Lola Sabel.”

The air froze. Ramon dropped his coffee cup. The two children were bewildered. Lani’s mouth was open, her face drained of color.

The lawyer continued:
“We contacted her via post but got no response. After further investigation, we learned that she is currently living at this address, in a state of… not being cared for.”

His eyes stopped on the confused faces of the family.

That afternoon, everyone quietly entered the bodega – where Lola Sabel was sitting knitting a sweater for her grandchild.

Lani said softly:
“Mom… I’m sorry about the bed. Go lie down inside and let me clean up that place for you.”

Lola Sabel looked up. Her eyes were calm and deep. She did not ask about the property, nor did she mention apologies. She only said one sentence lightly:

“The house does not need to be big, just have space for each other…”

The story of the old mother who was pushed out of the kitchen and then unexpectedly became the heiress to a huge fortune spread quickly throughout the barangay. But Lola Sabel did not care. What she needed was not money, but a small place in the hearts of her children and grandchildren – a place she once thought she no longer belonged to.