by Mariegold Echavez Jabla

The rain came in a persistent drizzle. I guess it’s always like this in high-altitude areas. Marilog District, Davao City has always been a foggy and 

drizzly place as far back as I can remember. Being a bit too late for the sea of clouds but too early for a full breakfast, my friends and I decided to take a side trip at Sonnen Berg Mountain View before heading back to our hotel.

The whole property is covered with pine trees, the kind that produces that distinct pungent smell that you could only associate with freshly ripped pine needles. The weather calls for hot chocolate to be consumed in quick sips because it would be scalding hot when served, so while waiting for our drinks, I headed out to wander alone for a while.

I forgot what I was thinking about; it could have been a career plan, unrequited love, or the continuation of our itinerary. It must have been one those things, but I lost track of my thoughts like I always do when focusing my mind on paths that are new to me. But one thought was the most persistent above all: sharing this new scenery with that one person whose memory had always sat at the back burner of my mind, patiently waiting for me to revisit him in my thoughts.

Such is the nature of traveling. It always brings us back to the people with whom we want to share the bliss of seeing the world through fresh eyes, somehow making it both beautiful and painful for wandering souls who could no longer reach beside them and find the hand that used to rest on the railings beside theirs.

There in front of me lay a branching path, with two trails leading further down the mountain.
One is lined with well-trimmed plants that eventually leads to an unfinished viewing deck looking over the road and the mist and the beautiful mountain range. The other is filled with pine needles scattered everywhere, painting the ground with shades of red and brown.

Stubbornly, I chose to continue walking, and I started to ascend as reddish mud coated my shoes. There was not much of a view, but the pine needle-riddled pathway and the solitude of this untrodden path were breathtaking. From a distance, I heard the overlapping voices of my friends, and I was amazed by how I feel the most alone when I am surrounded by people, reminding me of how I like to disappear even when I am in the same room as friends.

I carry with me a bag full of memories, full of heartaches and doubts, but there lay in front of me the beauty of life. Every step, I am met by a certain warmth despite the cold winds telling me that this is how life is to be lived: with a little bit of uncertainty, of unfamiliar ways, of tears and distance, and the lesson that life can sometimes outlive love. And that’s fine, too.

I reached the final step and finally joined the people waiting for me with welcoming smiles. I looked back and realized that both roads had led me to where all roads lead—exactly where I am supposed to be.