Blistering winds from the South China Sea sway the giant coconut trees lining the pristine beach while the foam of crashing waves melds with the fine white sand. Darkness creeps into the skies,
heralding an impending tropical storm on this December morning. The droning gusts turn somber as the skies open up, yielding a sea of planes emblazoned with the crimson symbol of the rising
sun. One by one, in perfect formation, they descend swiftly on this bucolic town like a swarm of hornets about to prey. A child's tiny feet trample madly on the powdery sand, racing with the
wild beating of her heart. Her breathing becomes more rapid, each gasp turning shallow and frantic as the invading horde casts its dark shadow from above. Suddenly, an ear-piercing sound is
heard, like an echo of a desperate woman wailing in pain.This is but one of Chiquita's childhood memories of World War II in the Philippines. And as she begins her long-awaited journey back to
the land of her birth, little does she know that the floodgates from the past are about to be unleashed. Back to her ancestral home. Back to the bosom of her three sisters. Back to the painful
memories of her childhood. Back to her mother.
