Home is where we areHarsh sunlight, rough seas. Soft, humid wind—feels like a warm hug. Inang Tasyang’s crisp laughs. The Makinang de Padyak Mama kept in her memory. Plants thriving in the summer. Holidays with my favorite people. This is the story of Marikit and the Ocean of Stars.

Back when I had a proper camera to take photos with. My holidate with my friends at Zambales produced what could be my favorite photosets to date: the vision of the glistening sea, the gurgling waves, children playing by the sand with their longboard. The sun was fiercer here, by the beach.

Inang Tasyang and yours truly, with that suspicious derpy grin as if I was thinking of the next mischief to make. The gray waters Sand landing. There were many boats on the shore, as fishing was also one of the main livelihoods of the people in Zambales. Our home was wonderfully surrounded by the greenest greens. Beyond our house, an actual kawayanan. Mama and I and a birthday and a hat. Marikit could never. Inang’s sewing machine is still here with us. A lovely reminder of the wonderful things created through its rusty body.

I always love talking about how Marikit and the Ocean of Stars was written with thoughts of my Inang Tasyang and my mother. They had the same birthday, and I think that brought a magical connection between them. Living close to Inang, my mother was the one Inang would often call when something was needed: someone to accompany her to the market, a certain forgotten recipe, errands that needed to be run, and invitations for a nice chat during merienda. It would take us a quick three minutes to get to Inang’s house by tricycle; seven on foot, faster if we sprinted.

When Inang called, we’d often come. I spent a good deal of my childhood with her, having been left there with my brother when our parents were at work. Sometimes, I’d sleep beside Inang and watch the starry night in her large open windows. That’s when I’d wonder if a monster hiding from the tall trees would come and snatch me away.

Beside Inang’s bed was her Makinang de Padyak, a curious contraption that I had always loved playing with. Inang would sit behind it, wound the wheel, and create something fantastic with her busy, wrinkly hands. Sometimes, she’d let me play with the drawers and pair buttons for her. I loved looking at those buttons! They looked like tiny beads and jewelry!

When Inang passed away, my mother took the Makinang de Padyak home. Sometimes, she would sit behind the wheel and sew, letting me hear the wounding sound again. My mother would recycle our clothes and remake shirts into shorts, or skirts, or rags. Things shouldn’t be just thrown away, she’d say.

That’s how I got the idea for Marikit’s dress.

These are my two favorite women in the world. Having a book dedicated to them brings me so much pride and joy. Inang may not be here to read it—I believe she read it first, looking over my shoulder while I typed each word—but I’m glad to have a tiny little proof of their love for me. And I hope, that with this story, their love echoes across the world, through a little young Diwata named Marikit.

Caris Avendaño Cruz

middle grade debut

Marikit and the Ocean of Stars

A magical middle grade debut, inspired by Filipino folklore, about a ten-year-old girl who embarks on a quest in the world of gods and spirits to save her and her family from a sinister shadow god. Perfect for fans of The Girl Who Drank the Moon and When You Trap a Tiger.

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