By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

WE planned to spend the New Year in several places. We thought of Pangasinan and Baguio. We explored the possibility of Bicol. But here we are, in Teresa Rizal, where we didn’t think of spending it. Sometimes, we are where we are without planning, following only our instincts.

The place is located close to a quarry site, where my nephew lives temporarily while waiting for the turnover of a property ready to be occupied in 2026. It takes an hour and a half via the Marcos Highway, passing through the hills of Antipolo, and descending through winding roads that closely resemble those of Kennon Road, where, instead of seeing the site where DPWH Undersecretary Catalina Cabral allegedly fell, you see instead mountains being spooned by quarrying operations.

Along the road, we passed by a row of vendors selling corn, raw and cooked. The first one we inadvertently passed, the second one we chose to pass by because the lady was hard of hearing and we were unduly spending more time explaining what we meant. As we were craving for corn, boiled or something we could roast over the fire, we stopped by a store selling what appeared to be the last available ones. Finally, my sister was able to buy some.

Upon arrival at my nephew’s place, Sun and Thooey, immediately ran towards the car. Both dogs lived with us at Filinvest. Sun was a gift from her sister Ash, and Thooey was adopted by him when her brother JC moved to a condo that only allowed one dog. He later found out JC had taken another dog, making him realize Thooey was an “abandog” or a dog intentionally left by its owner.

As soon as the groceries were unloaded, we sat and ate lunch at 2:30 pm. After lunch, my sister Che started to marinate the “liempo”and prepared the fish for the grill.  She asked me, “Is there a construction nail in the toolbox?” She was going to put some holes in the newly-bought grill contraption to make the air “move” with the charcoal so that she could grill without fanning so much. The “holing” was something she remembered from my dad, who had mastered every grilling technique out of necessity, to expedite the performance of his multi-tasking.

Our late dinner was ready at 10:45 pm, later than late, but it looked and smelled so good that we sat at the dining table focused on eating without much conversation. Then we slept soundly, like the two dogs, unaware of the sound of fireworks starting to build up on the streets. It’s not yet New Year but I can hear the roar of engines and motorcycles on parade. My sister Emma and I took photos, Che honked the cars, Nico cuddled his “baby” Sun as Thooey just remained in his nook, under the dining table. It’s 2026! I stared at the moon, bright and serene, unaffected by the commotion of human activity.

In 2026, wherever you are, whoever you are, I hope we can be better humans to each other,  concerned in our own spiritual and moral regeneration, especially as we actively pursue the systemic reconstruction and healing of our country.

Dios ti angina, 2025! Let’s go, 2026!