As I settle into the very back seat of the van, I look out the window, taking in the lively terminal scene.
We're waiting for the driver to finish chatting with someone outside, so I let my gaze wander.
There, not too far away, I spot a few familiar faces-young kids from my childhood, now standing around in groups, laughing and talking.
Seeing them tugs at my heart.
They were just little kids not too long ago, always running around with scraped knees and messy hair.
Now they've grown up, which surprises me.
Part of me wants to get off the van and say hello, ask them how they've been, but it feels awkward since we're about to leave.
Shifting my focus, I notice others around my age, all dressed in their school uniforms, ID lanyards hanging around their necks, their backpacks packed and ready.
They're probably going home to their provinces for the weekend too.
It's Thursday afternoon, and I'm on my way back to the countryside since classes are canceled until Monday for the holiday.
A long weekend stretches ahead, giving me the perfect chance to escape the city and find a little peace back home.
The driver finally steps inside, and as the engine roars to life, I close my eyes to say a quiet prayer for a safe journey.
Afterward, I slip my phone into my bag, thinking it's better to keep it safe in case I doze off and it slips from my hand.
My head aches, and I'm fighting off a cold and a fever, but I try to distract myself by looking out the window.
Houses and pedestrians pass by, a lively scene that eventually fades as we leave the city.
Thirty minutes later, sleep starts to pull me under, so I rest my head against the seat and close my eyes.
When I open my eyes again, I realize I've been asleep for over an hour and a half.
I quickly sit up, recognizing the familiar sight of my hometown's waiting shed just ahead.
Rubbing my eyes, I reach into my bag, pull out my wallet, and prepare to get off.
As the van slows, I pay the driver and thank him, catching his brief smile and nod before stepping out.
The fresh air hits me as I make my way into the nearby market area.
My first stop is the public restroom-something I want to take care of before picking up bread for my mama.
The bustling noise of the market greeted me as soon as I stepped in—vendors calling out, buyers weaving through the crowd, voices overlapping in a comforting, familiar hum.
I headed straight to the restroom tucked off to the side, slipping through the door and catching my reflection in the mirror.
I paused, fixing my hair, noticing my red, weary eyes—a clear sign I wasn’t feeling well today.
As I adjusted myself, a familiar face entered beside me—a girl from another barangay, close enough that I recognized her right away.
Our eyes met, and she greeted me with a warm smile. I smiled back.
She began fixing her hair too, standing right next to me.
We exchanged a brief conversation, and she mentioned she was studying Criminology.
It suits her-she has that kind of bold, confident vibe.
A moment later, she gave a small wave, signaling she was on her way out.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Kurgu OlmayanLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
