On the itinerary today? Absolutely nothing. Or rather, nothing planned, nothing rushed, and nothing for the sake of checking a box on a list. Just us, the sun, and whatever the day brings. We had a proper Cebuano feast for lunch, a whole lechon (roasted pig for the uninitiated) with its perfectly crispy, crackling skin and tender, juicy meat. There’s something almost ceremonial about slicing into a lechon by the beach; it’s as if the salty breeze brings out every ounce of flavor. I’m no culinary expert, but lechon tastes different here by the ocean. There’s a richness to each bite that makes you feel connected to the place, the people, and the moment itself. We ate with our hands, fingers greasy with savory lechon oil, laughing over stories we've told a thousand times but never tired of retelling.
The sun was relentless, but we didn’t care. The occasional dip in the sea to rinse off, and we were good as new. With food like that, there’s always a moment you need to stretch out and let it settle. A good meal deserves a little appreciation, and there we were, lined up along the sand like human starfish, eyes closed to the sun, letting its warmth soak in and calm us. It's funny—sometimes, life feels like a series of checkboxes and deadlines. And yet, lying there on that beach, I realized that these unplanned, simple moments make life feel complete. It’s like life is permitting you just to be.
Once we were recharged, we couldn’t resist getting up again. There’s a volleyball area, and no beach day would be complete without a game. We divided into teams, cousins against cousins, and let the games begin. It was fierce, but fun—each serve and spike a reminder of summers past when we were younger and endlessly full of energy. There were moments when we were more focused on falling into fits of laughter than keeping score. And maybe that’s what I love most about this place and my family—no one cares who wins. The only thing that matters is the feeling of sand flying under our feet, the thrill of a perfect spike, and the laughter that follows every fumbled catch.
As the sun started to dip toward the horizon, we watched the sky turn that dreamy shade of pink and orange that you only get on a perfect beach day. I took one last dip in the ocean, letting the cool water wash over me, and looked back at my family—laughing, joking, snapping photos to capture a day that no photo could ever fully hold. It’s always bittersweet when the day begins to end, but I realize now that maybe the impermanence makes it so beautiful. We can’t stay here forever, but we can hold onto these memories, tuck them away in the corners of our minds, and bring them out when life feels too overwhelming.
With sand still clinging to my skin and the taste of saltwater on my lips, I looked around at each family member. It hit me how much I love them, how grateful I am for these little stolen moments of pure joy. In the chaos of everyday life, we rarely stop to appreciate each other. But all that falls away here, under the fading light of a perfect beach day. We’re just a family, laughing in the sand, with no agenda, pressure, or expectations.
As I walk back up the beach, wrapping up the day’s adventures, I look forward to sharing this memory with you here on Hive. Sometimes, a day on the beach is more than just a day on the beach. It’s a reminder of who you are, where you come from, and the people who make it all worthwhile. And in those moments, it feels like life is exactly as it should be. 😘