(I really enjoy farm but my fragile body can't do it anymore.😭)
(Original photo with my cousin edited on ChatGPT into Ghibli style for privacy reasons.)
Back in July 2019, I was living with my aunt in BGC. She was pregnant at the time, and by the end of August, she gave birth to my cousin. I stayed with them until around October.
But truthfully, I wasn’t happy.
It wasn’t a graceful parting either. I cried — not because I didn’t want to stay, but because I did. Logically, remaining made sense. I wanted to help. I wanted to be present. But inside, I was crumbling. I didn’t feel the freedom I needed.
There was great food. The chores were light compared to what I carry here in the province. But I wasn’t allowed to drive a motorcycle. I wasn’t allowed to roam. It felt like being wrapped in soft silk — comfortable, but suffocating. I was bored and restless.
Now I find myself revisiting this memory because my cousin — that baby girl from 2019 — is about to start school. My aunt needs to work full-time, and they need someone to help at home. Nannies have come and gone — some barely out of high school, others already mothers — but none stayed.
Lately, my aunt has been messaging me, asking if I know someone reliable. Deep down, I think she’s hoping that “someone” is me.
It’s funny. I always said I wanted to spend more time with my cousin. And now she wants to be with me too.
But this time, the setting is different. They’re no longer in a condo in BGC. It’s a big house in Makati now — with space, and perhaps, a new kind of life. A quieter one. A shared one.
If I do go, I won’t go alone. I plan to bring my grandmother with me. My grandpa died 2 years ago and she's alone in Las Piñas. I’d be watching over two people I deeply love: my lola and my cousin. Lola love her apo so much but she's not functional as before since she suffered with stroke way before my cousin was born. We'd accompany each other — three generations navigating new routines under one roof.
Besides, I’m already preparing to leave the farm life behind. I’m selling my free-range chickens — not because I’ve given up, but because my family won’t be able to care for them when I’m gone. This transition has been in motion for a while now.
There’s still a dilemma, yes. I don’t feel as strong as before. The farm has exhausted me in ways only I know. But it also shaped me — made me grounded, sharp, and deeply aware of who I am.
My Aunt did say she'll give me spending money so I think it won't hurt that I'll be able to slowly pay my teeth crowns installment and feeds for my sows until next harvest of piglets again.
If this new chapter turns out to be the best one yet, I’ll embrace it. And if it’s not — well, the dice will keep rolling.
That’s the thought I hold onto right now. Not certainty, but motion. Not answers, but direction.
And for today, that’s enough.
All photos are mine.
Thanks for reading this far.🫰
