In a small baryo in Ilocos Norte, one would often see Mang Ramon and Aling Rosa sitting on the porch of their bahay kubo, watching AH26 – the Pan-Philippine Highway where long-distance buses to the South pass. Their youngest daughter – Maya – had been married for nineteen years and had never returned.

At first, Maya would call and send letters. But then the news gradually became less frequent and then disappeared. Aling Rosa sat on the porch many times with tears in her eyes:

I wonder how she is doing now… Has she forgotten her homeland?

Mang Ramon held back a sigh, his heart aching but he could not bear to blame his daughter.

One day, he decided:

Grandma, we must go to the South to find her. No matter what, we must see her with our own eyes.

After several days and nights of traveling by RORO bus along the Eastern Nautical Highway, they finally arrived in Davao City and found the address. The small house nestled in a quiet eskinita in Barangay Matina, the wooden door old, the walls mottled with damp.

Aling Rosa’s heart pounded as she knocked on the door. The door opened slightly, and Maya appeared – her face haggard, her eyes red, her smile forced.

– Maya… my child… – Mang Ramon’s voice choked.

Maya trembled and rushed out to hug her parents, tears streaming down her face. Aling Rosa panicked:

– My child, it’s been nineteen years, why haven’t you come back to your parents once?

Before she could reply, a soft cough came from inside the house. Her grandparents entered and stood still. On the simple wooden bed, a man lay motionless – his face pale but his eyes kind as he looked at them. It was Maya’s husband – Miguel.

Aling Rosa trembled:

– Oh my god… what’s going on, child?

Maya sat down next to the bed, held her husband’s hand and choked up: nineteen years ago, not long after the wedding, Miguel had an accident. He survived but lost the ability to walk. Since then, Maya has become her husband’s hands and feet, taking care of every meal and sleep.

– I really want to go home to visit my parents… but thinking about the scene where I come home and he is alone, I can’t bear it. I’m also afraid that my parents will worry, so I have to stay silent… – Maya said while shedding tears.

Hearing her confession, Mang Ramon and Aling Rosa choked up. For years, they blamed her for being heartless, but it was all out of filial piety and love.

Miguel tried to speak, his voice weak:
– I apologize to my parents… for making Maya suffer. I promise to love her and make it up to her for the rest of my life.

Mang Ramon shook his hand as he held his son-in-law’s hand:
– Son, don’t say that. You showed us that Maya made the right choice. A man, no matter what, as long as he is devoted to his wife and children, any parent will feel at ease.

The room fell silent, except for Aling Rosa’s sobs. The initial fear gradually faded, giving way to sorrow and warmth.

That day, the grandparents stayed. For the first time in nineteen years, they sat around the family dinner table: a bowl of hot sinigang, a plate of adobong bangus, simple but filled with happiness. Maya served food to her husband while chattering about her two children – obedient and polite – making the grandparents tear up.

At night, Aling Rosa lay next to her daughter, holding her hand like when she was a child:

– Silly child, no matter what happens, don’t hide it from your parents. Home is a place for you to lean on, not a place where you are afraid of disturbing them.

Maya leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder, sobbing. After years of suppression, she finally broke down.

The next morning, before his parents returned to Ilocos, Miguel held his father-in-law’s hand, his eyes determined:

I can’t walk, but I promise to take care of Maya with you, so she won’t feel lonely.

Mang Ramon squeezed that hand, feeling relieved.

On the bus back to Northern Luzon, his parents no longer had the heavy eyes they had before. They understood that, although their daughter couldn’t visit them yet, she was living in a loving home. And for parents, that was enough.