There’s this familiar beachfront of coconut trees, grey sand, and memories at Oroquieta City. There was old lady who would wake up every morning, and would sweep the beach clean. By midmorning she would sit on a bench by the entry, and watched people go by. A gentleman for her husband would come out of the house, and to check on the extract collected from the coconut trees that makes coconut wine, and eventually some “suka“. They were simple folks — grew fruits, and vegetables, tended farm animals in their little property, and had far too many cats, and dogs around their house.
Today, what used to be a beach resort is striped off of cottages, and tables for rent, a bold signage of a closed resort, and an open entryway for people to view the beach stands unwavering for years now. The coconut trees sways with the sea breeze still, some outrigger boats by the shore, and the sand is of the same grey like the last time I came for a visit. The old lady has passed away, and her husband also did — on the same day she took her last breathe two years later. The beach really is not that much, but the memories I had there, and the people are who my heart is fond of are. Sometimes we attached places with memories of the people we love. Last weekend, I went to Oroquieta again, and I told the pedicab driver of the house I’m visiting. I was shocked he said the name of this already close down beach resort to affirm where I wanted to be taken. Yes, I miss the old lady, and the gentleman.
- DAPITAN CITY | The Guy in Black Suit. No he’s not James Bond!
- 2013 | No Holding Back