I used to remember a long, tiring walk to get to Daraga Church. I was then around 8 or 9 years old. On the peak day of the town fiesta, my parents would set-up a mini-store outside the church. Together with my brothers and sisters, I would gladly help my mother operate the small temp store. We’d usually sell junk food, candies, cigarettes, and refreshments. We would get a lot of queues on our special mix palamig, so an extra hand was appreciated by the family. My father and brothers would carry heavy cases of soft drinks which reminds me that taking those flights of stairs was a small feat.
Those years my father was still working for the church so he usually got approval to sell outside the church. My father worked for the church for many years. He was an all-around carpenter. My father is after all good at a lot of things– plumbing, wiring, and other labor work.
On special occasions, the staff at the church would give leftover food to my father. Our empty Christmas table would be filled-up once our father arrives from the church. We couldn’t even eat everything because it was more than enough for us.
Eventually, when the bishop was changed, my father was let go. Still, the church has been a part of my childhood life.
The church, which was built circa the 18th century, must’ve bear witness to many events in this town. The destruction of men by Mt. Mayon or other natural phenomena, the happiness and worries of every family, the devotion of churchgoers and so many others. It also attests to my father's pains and gains.
On our return, I realized that getting to the church was a short, easy walk (except when you are carrying a 6+kg baby.) The place always brings a good feeling whenever I revisit after a long time.
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