The Best Gift of Sunset

The sun had set, casting a warm golden glow over the narrow street of Sitio Pio.

As twilight settled in, the residents of the neighborhood bustled about, preparing for the night ahead. The women of the houses started cooking dinner as their husbands arrived home after a tiring day of work. Students made their way back from school, their minds still buzzing with the knowledge gained during the day. The rest of the residents took solace in the tranquil ambiance, finding peace after a long and wearisome day.

The sights and sounds of everyday life in Sitio Pio unfolded before your eyes, a reflection of the common yet unique experiences found within the community. For the past seven years, not much had changed except for the passage of time, leaving its mark on the faces of the people.

One notable landmark on the street was Aling Lilia's barbecue stall, situated directly beneath the lamppost's gentle illumination. Customers flocked to her stall, savoring the flavors of the grilled pork, betamax (coagulated chicken blood), helmet (chicken head), adidas (chicken feet), and isaw (chicken intestines). Aling Lilia's delicious marinades and her daughter Rosalie's charm kept patrons coming back for more.

Across from the barbecue stall stood Aling Tekla's sari-sari store. The plump, kind-hearted widow tended to the needs of her loyal customers. The residents preferred buying from her store over Aling Maring's, just two houses away. They admired Aling Tekla's warm smile and the creases beside her small black eyes, in stark contrast to Aling Maring's perpetually frowning expression.

Adjacent to Aling Maring's store was Mang Nestor's electronics repair shop. The jolly old man in his mid-fifties welcomed customers with open arms, always ready to fix their damaged appliances. His wife, Aling Sita, a short and slim woman of few words, was known as the best tailor in Sitio Pio and the neighboring barangays. Together, they raised four children, two of whom were still in college while the other two had started their own families.

In front of Mang Nestor's shop, five men sat around a small bamboo table, sharing stories and laughter over beers and pulutan. It was a common sight to see them, slightly intoxicated, spending their evenings on the street until they eventually dozed off.

Meanwhile, the children of Sitio Pio played games like patintero and tumbang lata in the street, their youthful energy refusing to fade. They still enjoyed a game of hide and seek when the moon was full, even though the faces had changed over the years.

Not far from the lamppost, a vacant lot owned by a wealthy Chinese businessman stood. He had purchased the land from a politician with plans to build an apartment complex, but the lot remained untouched for years. In the meantime, it served as a basketball court for the teenagers of Sitio Pio, who played from sunrise to sunset, honing their skills and building friendships.

The houses in the neighborhood retained their familiar structures, although some walls had been repainted, roofs weathered by typhoons, and yards cleared of weeds. They remained the homes where the residents of Sitio Pio grew up, filled with memories and experiences.

And then there was the old bungalow at the end of the neighborhood, a structure that stood unchanged for many years. It had been built twenty-five years ago, initially made of wood with plans for renovations seventeen years later. However, the construction was halted, and the reason for its abandonment remained unknown.

A white car gracefully navigates through the narrow streets of the Sitio, capturing the attention of the residents. People pause their activities, their curious gazes fixed on the unusual sight of a car coming to a halt in front of that old house. In a place like Sitio Pio, witnessing a car maneuver through these tight pathways, let alone stopping by that particular house, is a rare occurrence.

As the car door opens, a young lady emerges, and a wave of whispers spreads through the onlookers. Their hushed conversations blend with the anticipation in the air.

"Isn't she the eldest daughter?"

"What could she be doing here?"

"Perhaps they're planning to sell the house now?"

"I wonder what happened to them after they left."

"Seven years have passed. Do you think she has forgiven him?"

The mention of forgiveness catches her attention, and she instinctively glances sideways. The crowd falls silent, attempting to mask their curiosity with forced smiles directed toward her.

These are the same old neighbors, with their unchanging attitudes and deeply ingrained habits...

She returns the smiles she receives, genuine ones that reflect her true emotions. Despite any disdain she may hold for their ways, she still finds herself missing certain aspects of her former neighbors. Gossip, in its own way, adds life to a place.

"Melissa, how are you? Are you planning to sell your house already?" Aling Maring asks.

Melissa recalls the past disagreements her mother had with Aling Maring, but she realizes that her mother was not the only one who clashed with their neighbor. Most of the residents had their fair share of conflicts with Aling Maring. Despite the unfavorable treatment they received from her, Aling Maring played a significant role in coloring Melissa's childhood.

She shakes her head to indicate that the house is not up for sale.

This house still holds cherished memories. Selling it would mean parting with half of her life.

"My mother actually planned to have it renovated."

"By the way, how is your mother? I've missed chatting with her. Why hasn't she visited even once in the past seven years?" Tiya Nida inquires. She is the owner of the house closest to theirs, and she had been a good neighbor to Melissa's family. During their times of extreme poverty, when they couldn't afford their basic necessities, Tiya Nida lent them money and provided them with food.

Tiya Nida's eldest son, Jimuel, was Melissa's best friend and first love. She can't forget the wonderful moments they shared.

"She's doing well. I entrusted the management of the restaurant to her."

"Gina is so lucky," Tiya Nida remarks.

"And how about your father?"

Melissa feels as if time stands still. It's the question she has been avoiding for the past seven years.

Her father...

I don't remember having a father... I don't even want to remember I had one.

She averts her gaze from them, hiding the torrent of emotions flooding her. When she finally lifts her eyes, they settle on the house that holds her childhood dreams, memories, and life. It's the house that witnessed every smile and tear, the place she once called home—a place where she once had a complete and happy family.

Seeing it again after seven years, she feels that familiar warmth, even amid the pain, hatred, and longing. For the first time in a long while, without any sense of victory, she feels like she's returning to the starting line...

…

The sun had disappeared below the horizon, and the crisp October air embraced the narrow streets of Sitio Pio. Once again, the residents bustled about, preparing for the nightfall.

Women hurried home to cook dinner as their husbands arrived, exhausted from their day jobs. Students made their way back home after spending eight hours at school. The rest of the residents relished in the tranquility that twilight brought after a weary day. Among them was Melissa.

After returning from school, she hastily dropped her bag and changed out of her uniform. Eagerly, she dashed out of the house towards Aling Tekla's store.

As she passed by, Jimuel and the other kids playing patintero called out to her, inviting her to join. However, she hurried past them, promising to play later.

Aling Tekla greeted her with a smile when she arrived. Melissa returned the smile and settled on the bench in front of the store. Her eyes fixed on the entrance of Sitio, eagerly awaiting someone's arrival.

"Are you waiting for your father?" Aling Tekla inquired.

Melissa glanced at her and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes po."

The mere thought of her father coming home filled her with joy.

Her father, Mang Julio, worked in a city far from the Sitio. He only returned on special occasions, such as his children's birthdays. The last time he had been home was five months ago when they celebrated Melissa's youngest sister's third birthday.

That evening, Melissa waited for him again because the next day was her seventh birthday.

She didn't expect a grand birthday party since she knew her parents couldn't afford one. Like every family in Sitio Pio, they lived a simple life with no wealth except for their love and togetherness. Although poverty was a prevalent aspect of their lives, nothing could surpass the strength of the bayanihan spirit among the residents. They treated each other like members of a big family.

All she wished for was to have her father at home on that special day, and that would be enough for her.

The sun had set completely, yet there was still no sign of her father. The children who had been playing on the street earlier had already gone home and were probably having dinner.

Melissa kept her eyes fixed on the entrance of Sitio, waiting for her father to return for dinner. Worry crept into her heart, though she tried to remain hopeful.

"Melissa, aren't you going home yet? It's almost seven o'clock," Aling Tekla remarked.

Melissa remained silent.

Minutes passed, and then someone tapped her shoulder. When she looked up, she saw Jimuel smiling down at her.

"Your mother asked me to bring you home. They're already waiting for you to have dinner."

She sighed and glanced back at the street. Her father still hadn't arrived.

"Come on. You can wait for him at home. He never fails to come home for your birthdays, right?"

It was true that her father never forgot their birthdays, but that night she was truly worried.

The next morning, Melissa woke up with a heavy heart. It was her birthday, yet she didn't feel joyous. Still half-asleep, she walked out of her bedroom and failed to notice the man sitting at the dining table.

"Happy birthday, 'nak!"

The voice jolted her awake and brightened her gloomy heart. She hurried toward him with open arms, and he enveloped her in a tight embrace. The best gift she could receive on her seventh birthday—a hug from her father.

…

As the sun sank below the horizon, the brisk October air caressed the narrow streets of Sitio Pio. Once again, the residents bustled about, preparing for the impending nightfall.

The women hurried home to cook dinner, their husbands returning from another exhausting day of work. Students made their way home after dedicating eight hours to their studies. The rest of the residents reveled in the serene tranquility that twilight brought after a weary day. But to Melissa, they had all become strangers—the sunset, the narrow streets of the Sitio, the residents, her family, and herself.

She would be turning seventeen the next day. People often said that seventeen was the best year of one's life. It was a time to enjoy the carefree world of adolescence for the last time and to prepare oneself for the responsibilities of adulthood.

However, for Melissa, turning seventeen was the most dreadful event of her life. It marked the moment when she realized she was no longer a child. The harsh realities of life slapped her unguarded, inflicting deep wounds.

"May ibang pamilya na ang papa niyo." Those were the most devastating words she had ever received. The news was more painful than his first farewell kiss.

The pain pierced her heart as her mother revealed the truth. She had heard whispers of it at Aling Tekla's store, but she had dismissed them as mere rumors. Now, it all made sense—the coldness in her father's voice during their phone calls, her mother's nightly cries, the frequent arguments between her parents, and the chilling atmosphere in their home.

Caught up in the joys of her youth, she had been oblivious to the changes unfolding within their own walls. But now, it was too late, and the pain consumed her.

Love transformed into hatred. Longing became agony. And all the cherished memories she once held with her father shattered like broken glass, piercing her heart.

Since that revelation, Mang Julio never returned home. They heard rumors that he had come back to the country and started a new family, but Melissa no longer cared. She tried to avoid any news about her father, attempting to erase him from her mind.

From that moment on, she despised the sunset and never celebrated her birthday again. The once joyous occasions were marred by the weight of her shattered family.

…

As the sun disappeared below the horizon, the brisk October air embraced the narrow streets of Sitio Pio, where residents bustled about, preparing for the arrival of nightfall.

Women hurried home, eager to prepare dinner as their husbands returned from another exhausting day of work. Students made their way home, their minds still filled with the knowledge they had acquired during their eight hours at school. The rest of the residents took solace in the tranquility that twilight brought after a weary day. All those things they would soon leave behind.

It had been a year since Mang Julio, Melissa's father, officially left them. In search of a fresh start, Melissa's mother, Aling Gina, made the decision to leave Sitio Pio with her children. They embarked on a journey to a new place, far away from the familiar streets they had known.

Aling Gina ventured into a small business, utilizing the money they had saved. Melissa supported her mother by working part-time as a saleslady in a nearby city while pursuing her studies. As the eldest child, she shouldered more responsibilities, growing into a young woman who was determined and reliable.

With perseverance, Melissa graduated college with honors, earning a degree in Accountancy. Shortly after, she successfully passed the licensure examination and quickly secured a job. Through her tireless efforts, their lives began to flourish. They established a restaurant, which her mother managed with dedication. Her siblings were able to pursue higher education, and Melissa was able to purchase a car from her hard-earned income. She had built her own family and was living a comfortable life.

Her life had undergone a remarkable transformation, but despite the success she had achieved, an emptiness lingered within her. She yearned for something more, something that transcended material wealth and accomplishments.

…

As the old house looms before her, the sun unfolds its final show, casting a red-orange hue across the sky. This time of day used to be her favorite when she was still a child, but now it serves as a painful reminder of what she has lost on her journey of growing up.

Melissa takes hesitant steps toward the house. Outsiders, unfamiliar with the Sitio, believe it to be haunted by ghostly apparitions. However, for Melissa, the house is haunted not by the spirits of the dead, but by the ghosts of her childhood.

She pushes open the front door, surprised to find it unlocked. She wonders if someone has taken up residence there without her family's consent.

The air inside is musty, like any house left untouched for years. Without electricity, darkness engulfs the space, but Melissa knows every corner intimately. This house was once a part of her.

Memories come rushing back, transporting her through time. It feels as though she has stepped into a time machine, returning to the past.

In her mind, she sees her entire family gathered in the sala, enjoying their favorite television program before bedtime. Melissa, her younger brother Julius, and the youngest, Veronica, teasing and laughing together, with their parents watching fondly. She remembers the small table her father crafted, where they shared simple meals cooked by her mother. It was also their study table, where books replaced dishes after dinner. She recalls the pugon, where her mother prepared food and her beloved cat found comfort during chilly weather.

Such a humble and content existence defined her childhood—the very things she never realized she would miss until now.

As she prepares to open one of the windows, a cough breaks the silence. She turns her head, searching for the source of the sound, but finds no one. The cough repeats, emanating from the room that was once their bedroom. Someone is inside.

Summoning courage, she approaches the old bedroom. The door is slightly ajar. Slowly, she peeks inside. Movement catches her eye in the corner near her old bed. Another cough confirms her suspicion—an occupant lies there.

"Who are you?" she asks, strangely unafraid despite the circumstances.

A long silence ensues before the intruder finally answers.

"Melissa..."

The voice sends a chill down her spine. She would never mistake that voice. She would never forget...

"Anak..."

A rush of emotions engulfs her—happiness, hatred, longing—all the things she hasn't felt in years. For the first time in seven years, tears stream down her cheeks.

Dim light from outside seeps through the closed window, revealing a frail, elderly man looking up at her.

He is not the same man she last saw—healthy and full of life. Now, he resembles the aged and worn-out state of the house itself.

Seeing him in this weakened state, regret washes over her for harboring so much hatred for him all these years. Pity flickers in her still-aching heart. The pain and anger that consumed her suddenly give way to longing.

With trembling knees, she closes the distance between them—the distance she had never dared to bridge until now.

The man extends his hand, and she hesitates, unsure if she should reciprocate the gesture.

"Forgive me," he says, his voice muffled.

Would she forgive him? For betraying her trust, causing her immeasurable pain, teaching her to despise someone so important, leaving her wounded for so many years... Would she forgive him in exchange for the shattered memories of her childhood? Would it be worth it?

Her blood, coursing through her veins, tells her to do so.

Choking back tears, her voice broken, she asks, "W-what... happened? Where... where is your family?"

The man's hand falls to his side. "Forgive me for destroying our once happy family. I was selfish. I strayed from the path. I'm sorry, anak."

"My wife left me three years ago for another man, taking our daughter with her. It was my karma for what I did to you. I spent years searching for you, begging for forgiveness. I met your mother, and she forgave me. She even offered me a chance to live with you again, but I declined. I don't deserve it."

"I tried to find you and your siblings, and I discovered that you have your own family now and are living a good life. I am grateful that God didn't abandon you despite what I did."

Melissa wants to unleash all the pain and misery she and her mother endured upon him, but all she can do is remain silent and listen.

"Six months ago, my health began to decline. I went to a doctor and found out that I have stage two lung cancer."

The news shocks her. She never expected to hear such news from him after seven long years. She had always imagined he was living a comfortable life, never considering that he might be ill. With his revelation, a sense of devastation washes over her. It feels as though the world has crumbled beneath her feet.

"Before my life comes to an end, I have one wish: your forgiveness."

Tears continue to flow down her cheeks.

"Papa..."

She moves toward him and envelops herself in his embrace—the embrace she hadn't felt in years, the embrace that brings security, the embrace that assures her he will never let go again.

For the first time in a long while, after traversing a difficult and winding road, she finds her way back to his arms...her father's arms. At this moment, she feels like a child once more—the child who eagerly awaited her father's return for her birthday, the child who proudly walked across the stage while her father watched, the child who found solace in her father's embrace.

"Happy birthday, 'nak."

The sun has set. The brisk October air kisses the narrow streets of Sitio Pio, where residents prepare to welcome nightfall.

Women rush home to prepare dinner as their husbands return from exhausting jobs. Students make their way home after dedicating themselves to school for eight hours. Among them is Melissa.

Today is her birthday, and she has just received the most precious gift of all.