The Sand Knew It All: A Sunday Escape

The light that rallies in the walls of June calls forth the moments we had in the month of May in a way that soothes our hearts. We come to remember the experiences and life we had with the hope to live for it again and again. Whether you say it or not, some of it is not as poignant as it has to be like the others—that we would be willing to trade one moment for another, for living it again.

In my previous blog, I brought you to a window that let you view what a weekend looks like for a student journalist. I'm honest that I actually experience—whenever possible—that kind of busy schedule and never-ending errands, without knowing when to rest and when not to. You had enough reading of my busy days, reading a column about a man trying to figure out everything every moment, juggling his passion and commitment to the responsibilities he has as a journalist. I learned some of you might be following my stories for quite some time now, and with that, I cannot let my dearest readers become bored reading about my busy days.

So, for this column, I'll bring you to the opposite—to the kind of Sunday escape I love doing repeatedly, for it is the kind of rest that calms me more than anything.

THE SUNDAY AND THE EXPERIENCE

All my days are mostly spent for college and its piled-up responsibilities. Seldom can I make the most of my weekends that I get unmotivated for the rest of the week. But it is not always the case —life has to make me happy sometimes.

Yesterday, our plan for spending the rest of the Sunday time was brought to reality. My friends and I grabbed the opportunity to visit a beach and recharge ourselves for the time being. We gathered in the public market at 10 o'clock in the morning to buy the foods and things we needed until the day ends. Some of them are from the next municipality so it took a lot of time before we finally assembled. By the moment we all met, we immediately entered a warehouse to buy snacks and beverages without knowing what to buy specifically. We grabbed those foods we think we would need and without wasting time, we left the place. We paid for it, of course. I think I got you!

We entered the market and searched for lechon manok (grilled chicken). Fortunately, we found it in time—but the unfortunate part is that it was cooked from last night, so we had no choice but to eat a not-so-fresh-from-the-grill chicken (but at least it was okay to eat). We also bought ready-to-cook foods like hotdogs and the famous chicken lumpia. Given that it was a scorching day, we rode a tricycle instead of walking to a nearby beach. But we still walked when we found out the beach we stopped at was not open and the driver was already gone.

We found no good spot and we decided to just squeeze in somewhere breezing. The girls of the friend group prepared the food and they also cooked ehat we bought. And to wrap it in a joke, we always call them mother figures whenever they cook for us.

We ate immediately when the business was done—not to mention all how it was done, but I'll tell you that we burned all charcoal in the grill and lost every bit of our oxygen lighting the charcoal. In the end, we ate burnt-taste meat but still gave it a ten over ten rating for the effort. While eating, a pair of pizza staff roamed the coastline and convinced us to try their new flavor, which we loved eventually while pairing it with our chaotic conversation.

It was a bright and relaxing day, knowing that it is only a horizon of blue hues and a sand that all matters temporarily. The best thing during a time of no work to do, for me, is the conversation we make and the topics we randomly pick. And among the topics, talking about life would be my always favorite before my second favorite that is talking dirty. We paired the chitchats with some light liquor but it was not light at all when one of our friends knocked out and spent the rest of the day sleeping. We just talked and let the hours fly, and when the sun was not in its warmest, we prepared ourselves to cool our bodies in the water. Our place is actually a good spot for beaches because it is composed of blue crystal-like waters and it gives a very relaxing impression for visitors.

When we were bound for the water, we saw a bear mascot walking around the area, and my friends just freaked me out shouting about its cuteness. With no choice and option, I did my best to look excited seeing a bear mascot just to let the guy inside the mascot know he is doing well in making the day of people brighter. We took photos with him or her or who, and even gave us a fist bump. I think the kindness that people gave makes the mascot lighter for that guy. I hope he had a good day after that.

We spent the remaining hours burning ourselves in the water under the lesser heat index, but all was worthy of the dark skin color. We played every game we could come up with and sometimes we would just grab a green thing floating in the water and throw it to the lucky winner. And when that person found out who did who, the game began to heat up and became more fun. It was a tired play for adults dealing with serious things in life but a reminder that even adult friendship should play in the most childish and clumsiest way.

When the sun started to set, we gave half an hour in a karaoke near our spot and blew the most harsh and ugliest voice we could offer. But in a friend group singing chaotically, there is always a friend who sings well that it could summon all magical things. Well, it was night time, so maybe she could summon some insomnia.

We headed to each other's home at 7:00 P.M. of the night and the funny thing is I got home barefoot because one of my friend's slippers got lost in the history. And as the guy friend, I offered my slipper to her and scratched my feet on the way home. The important thing is we made our trip safely and got home in one piece.

It was a lengthy day and a day that is not restless but recharging. That kind of weekend is my always "I-want" thing, especially if the week is as stressful as me. The kind of day that whispers in your ears why you keep going. The kind of memory that holds you still when life starts to rush again.