On the stormy night of November 8, 1968, an infant’s shrilling cries rumbled across Sacred Heart Hospital’s delivery room. The second born of Ricarda and Antonio Rosas, she is the only lass among their three children to have entered their lives. The healthy baby girl weighed 6 pounds and 9 ounces with the height of only 45 centimeters. Despite her lack in height upon being born, her round and rosy cheeks riveted everyone’s gaze that she was conferred with the precise and faultless name, Rose. She grew up to be a proper lady with grace but with an attitude and a mischievous side in hiding. Forty-six years later, she is now the proud bearer of my father’s last name—Rosemarie Rosas-Managbanag. She is a lady who is not merely a woman of form, but a woman of substance. Amidst her firm and strong personality, there is no one more understanding than my mother who is my confidant and my motivation to study well.
Inside her workplace, her thinning charcoal-black hair would be pulled up in a sleek bun revealing no stray strand and disclosing her pointy ears. Her hooded raven-black eyes are framed by straight eyelashes and underlined by evident eye bags that would stare at you as if it could penetrate right through your…show more content… He thought that she was a recondite with endless terrain of thoughts, both perturbing and vivacious intertwined in long fabrics of unanswerable questions and meritorious understanding about the world. Until now, I can most definitely attest to that. When absorbed in all the workload, she would put all her attention to it to avoid mistakes. When she says no, she means no. She has a strong personality that when she commands, there are no highway options. She is not indecisive; she is certain as to what she wants. Her firm and circumstantial adjudication will not ever be changed in accordance to favoritism, but of