Cream-O

There is nothing special about Cream-O Vanilla Cream-filled Chocolate Sandwich Cookies.

The cookies look and taste like every other biscuit you can find at the Snacks aisle in Gaisano. You can get them for around 7 PHP per pack of three cookies, an affordable munch for hungry consumers within a 90-meter radius of a sari-sari store. Most of these consumers are kids, as it is highly likely any adult who comes across a pack is quickly snapped back to the reality of type 1 diabetes. Nevertheless, they’re a pretty standard manufactured treat. There’s nothing special about them. But I’d be lying if I said Cream-O doesn’t hold a special place in the upper left ventricle of my heart.

Memories are abstract things. They are merely our brain’s recollections of our past. We immortalize these moments by keeping the carnival tickets, buying a t-shirt, or taking a photo. They’re like souvenirs for the small and big moments in life. To me, Cream-O biscuits are exactly that.

It was my go-to snack whenever recess rolled around. I usually rinsed it down with a refreshing 180-ml carton of Magnolia Chocolait. The 2-minute walk from the Diamond classroom to the canteen was worth it because I get to get a bite of my favorite biscuit. At that moment, it’s the best thing in the world. But then again, the best thing about Cream-O biscuits isn’t the biscuit itself.

When I eat a Cream-O, I imagine myself sitting in the round Monobloc table outside the canteen, laughing with friends and not having a care in the world. The wind blows past through us, in a hurry to get somewhere important. The sun hides behind some clouds, taking a break from all the shining. The murmur of students sounds rhythmic, musical even. For a few minutes, the world stops being so demanding. We stop being burnt-out scholars. At that moment, we’re just a bunch of kids eating food and being kids.

Cream-O is not just a biscuit. It’s a keychain of my first months in Pisay; the tiring, happy, relentless, fun, stressful months. As I sit back and reminisce all the great things I’ve experienced in 7th grade, I can’t help but also remember the blue plastic packaging that always sat inside the right pocket of my skirt. I’d take it out during a particularly lengthy cheer dance rehearsal, or while waiting on the benches near the guard house, or after a draining session of PE class. No matter what, Cream-O always finds its way into the most mundane moments of my school life.

Maybe there is something special about Cream-O Vanilla Cream-filled Chocolate Sandwich Cookies.

The specificity of this memorabilia seems a little weird, even downright cringe at first. But I think it’s only right to think of it as so since Cream-O does bring back specific memories of a past I generalize too often. It lends itself to nostalgia. Simple, childish, unfiltered nostalgia. It takes me back to days where I hadn’t even thought about associating Cream-O with the present. The present that would soon only exist in my memory and in my phone.

And also in Cream-O.