This afternoon arrived with that strange ache in my chest—the kind that creeps in when you least expect it. I had just finished my chores, the sun was still stubbornly warm, and for no reason other than the tug of memory, I found myself missing Cebu. Not just the place, but the scent of it. The warmth of it. The noise, the rhythm, the comfort of home. And in that wave of homesickness came an oddly specific craving: dirty ice cream.

sorbetes

If you’ve ever grown up in the Philippines, you’ll know what I mean—sorbetes, that delightfully humble street-side ice cream scooped from colorful carts and served in crunchy cones or warm pan de sal buns. It’s not really dirty, of course. The nickname is more about where it’s sold than how it’s made. But for me, it tastes like childhood, like street corners and laughter and slow afternoons where you had nothing more urgent to do than chase the ice cream man down the street.

So I went out and found a little spot selling it. One scoop. No frills. Just sweet, cold comfort. I had barely sat down to enjoy it when I felt another stare—not from a stranger, but from my most loyal companion.

Jaguar

There he was: Jaguar, my little pumpkin, sitting quietly by my feet, those soulful eyes locked on my cone like it was the Holy Grail. There’s a particular kind of look dogs give you—a cross between angelic patience and silent negotiation—and Jaguar had mastered it. His expression said everything: “Mom, please… just a little taste?”

I tried to resist. Truly, I did. But one glance at those eyes, and my resolve melted faster than my ice cream. Of course, I made sure it wasn’t the chocolate flavor (no worries, pet parents!) and let him have the tiniest lick. And just like that, his tail wagged, his eyes sparkled, and it was as if we both shared a moment of stolen joy—sweet, fleeting, and oddly sacred.

They say homesickness reveals what our hearts miss most. Today, I realized that sometimes what we crave isn’t just food—it’s the feeling behind it. That quick escape to memory. That bridge between worlds. And in that small moment, with Jaguar licking the very edge of my cone, I didn’t feel quite so far from home.

So here’s to the small things: the bite of a beloved street food, the comfort of a furry friend, and the unexpected grace that finds us even in the most ordinary afternoons.

Stay sweet,
Anj & Jaguar 🍦🐶