September highs

Within a month, I traveled to Camiguin and Siargao islands for work and vacation. It would not come as a surprise from my previous job at the Department of Agriculture, which involved more fieldwork. But with the new job this year, traveling opportunities outside the region are limited. If not for my initiative, I would not have gone to Cebu and Baguio in the first half of the year.

But September, my evermore season, came with traveling surprises, starting with Camiguin Island, where I strengthened my bond with relatively new workmates. Shortly after settling at our hotel, I declared I would retire on the island.

The island is peaceful with little trace of modernity. Traditional house architecture is preserved, which reminds me of our ancestral house in Maasin, Southern Leyte.

Camiguin received the baggage from my fresh, broken romance. In the pool on the first evening, the memories haunted me while surrounded by workmates catching up and laughing freely after the day’s worth of workshop. I did not fake my interaction with them, but I also did not deny the death inside me that I still mourn. The supercut of events runs free in my mind. It has been a crazy rush of emotions.

But Camiguin ultimately taught me that death, multiple kinds, and magnitude, is inevitable. The island‘s history is marked by the volcanic tragedy that claimed many lives in exchange for what it is known for today. Sacrificial is how I describe it. And hauntingly beautiful memories of the experience are what I carried back home.

Meanwhile, Siargao is all too familiar because I used to roam the island for fieldwork from 2022 to 2023, and as the sole witness to the then-blossoming romance we established there that I had to confront alone for the first time this year, not only as a beautiful past but as a stabbing one.

The island remained thriving, if not more lively. Nothing dramatic changed since my last visit in November. I joined my former workmates in their training in Santa Monica and San Benito on September 18-19 and a program on 20 for a retiring national director.

My visit to Siargao this time is friends-centered. I missed the company of my former workmates. They remained welcoming despite my move to a new office. The warm reception of the host municipalities and farmer-partners, beaches, motorcycling, good food, and laughter encapsulated by the island landscape solidified our gathering.

The latter half of 2024 took away some connections in my life to replace surprises I never jotted in my planner. One major thing: I finally learned motorcycle driving. It happened one morning during our planned jog in Santa Monica with Mel, Kuya Porce, and Kuya Fritz. After a few rounds, Kuya Porce suddenly pushed me to get to driving around the town square. And right there, I took in all the tips from my friends and managed to balance the motorcycle (nicknamed Diggy, by the way) just like driving a bicycle. A milestone was recorded on September 19, which we wrapped up with coffee and pandesal from a local bakeshop.

I look back to September and remember being freewheeling on the islands and youthful as a twenty-five somebody. My July-August self was pieced down and alienated even to my own emotions. But right now, there is much hope. I relate to Maisie Peters singing, “I am doing better. I made it to September,” in There It Goes. I want more of life and more connections moving forward.