Dear Diary,
Today was another typical day in the terraces, working alongside my family. The rhythm of our work is both familiar and comforting, each task a piece of the daily tapestry that makes up our lives here in Tañong Bayan. After yesterday's adventures with Lito, it felt good to settle back into the steady routine of the fields.
The sun was already warm when we started, casting long shadows across the terraces. I joined Papa and my brothers, carefully tending to the young rice plants we had transplanted yesterday. There's a kind of magic in seeing the tiny seedlings standing upright in the water, knowing that with time and care, they'll grow into tall, strong stalks of rice.
As I worked, my thoughts wandered back to Lito. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, knowing that soon he'd be leaving for the capital. But I also felt proud of his bravery and determination. It's a strange mix of emotions, this blend of sorrow and pride.
The day passed quietly, the hours marked by the sounds of the fields—the soft splash of water, the murmur of voices, and the occasional call of a bird. In the afternoon, we took our usual break under the mango tree. Toto climbed up again to fetch some fruit, and we enjoyed the sweet, juicy mangos, their sticky juice running down our fingers.
When we finally finished our work for the day, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. We washed up and headed home, our legs tired but our spirits high. There's a certain satisfaction that comes from a day of honest work, from knowing that we're contributing to our family and our community.
Dinner tonight was a simple affair, as always, but it was filled with laughter and conversation. Mama made her delicious chicken adobo, the savory aroma filling our small kitchen. As we ate, she shared some news that made us all excited.
"Your Uncle Felipe is coming to visit," she announced, smiling. "He'll be here in a few days."
Uncle Felipe is one of my favorite relatives. He lives in a neighboring village and always has the most fascinating stories to tell. He's traveled more than anyone else I know and brings with him tales of far-off places and adventures that light up our imaginations.
"Will he stay for the harvest festival?" Toto asked eagerly.
"I hope so," Mama replied. "He said he'd try to make it."
The thought of Uncle Felipe's visit added a spark of excitement to the evening. We spent the rest of dinner talking about his last visit, recalling the stories he told and the gifts he brought. It's amazing how someone's presence can bring so much joy and anticipation.
As I write this entry, I feel a sense of contentment. Today was uneventful, but it was filled with the quiet joys of everyday life. Sometimes, it's these simple moments that mean the most—the steady work of the fields, the warmth of family, and the anticipation of a loved one's visit.
Until tomorrow, Diary.
Lia