Weaving Dreams, Thread by Thread I

As the end of the school break approached, Kabunlawan buzzed with life. The rhythmic sounds of footsteps on the cobbled streets blended with the chatter of townsfolk bargaining over goods in the marketplace.

The scent of freshly cooked rice cakes mingled with the sharp tang of dried fish hanging in stalls.

Children darted through the alleys, their laughter echoing amidst the hum of activity, while older villagers carried bayongs filled with produce and whispered about the upcoming academic year.

For many, it was a season of excitement; for others, like Judio and his mother Lena, it was one of quiet desperation.

In their modest bamboo home, Judio sat cross-legged on a woven mat, sunlight filtering through the slatted windows and casting striped patterns on the floor.

Between them lay a small pile of coins and paper notes. The room smelled faintly of dried herbs and the damp earth outside—a scent that reminded Judio of simpler times.

The registration fee for the final year at the academy was set at 3 silver coins—a sum that seemed insurmountable.

The door creaked open, and Lena stepped inside, the warm afternoon light framing her figure, and her arms laden with goods from the talipapa.

She carried a woven bayong filled with fresh vegetables, the vibrant colors peeking through the openings of the bag. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her movements were slow, betraying her exhaustion.

Judio immediately rose to his feet. "Ma, you're back," he said, moving towards her.

Lena managed a weary smile. Despite the day's fatigue, she exuded a natural beauty that often drew admiration in Kabunlawan.

Her slim figure and graceful demeanor made her appear years younger than her actual age. Her smooth, clear skin, framed by long, dark hair, and her bright, expressive eyes added to her youthful appearance. There had even been rumors that she bore a striking resemblance to a lady from high society. However, this resemblance did not always work in her favor. Some villagers, upon realizing that she was merely a peasant, looked down on her and her child.

A few even harbored resentment towards her because of her beauty, viewing it as a threat or an anomaly in their rural community. This prejudice added to the challenges Lena faced, as societal expectations and stereotypes in rural areas often perpetuate discrimination against women.

Without a word, Judio took the bayong from her hands and set it aside. He then approached her respectfully, bowing his head slightly as he took her right hand and gently pressed it to his forehead—a now archaic traditional gesture known as "mano," a sign of respect and a request for blessing in the long history of Bathalumea.

"Mano po," he murmured.

Lena's eyes softened, and she placed her other hand on his head briefly. "God bless you, Judio."

They shared a brief moment of connection before Judio guided her to sit beside him. "I was just counting our savings for the registration fee," he explained.

Lena glanced at the assortment of coins and notes spread out on the mat. "Let's see where we stand."

Together, they began sorting the currency:

Copper Coins: The most abundant in their collection, each worth a fraction of a bronze coin.

Bronze Coins: Fewer in number, with 100 copper coins equating to 1 bronze coin.

Silver Coins: Scarcer still, with 100 bronze coins needed for a single silver.

Bronze-Glazed Paper Notes: Each representing 10 bronze coins, a more convenient form of currency.

As they tallied their savings, the reality became clear. After meticulous counting, their total amounted to:

2 silver coins

35 bronze coins

50 copper coins

1 bronze-glazed paper note

Judio did the calculations in his head. "That's 2 silvers, and with the bronze coins and note, we have an additional 45 bronze coins, which is 0.45 silver. Combined, it's 2.45 silver coins."

Lena sighed, her shoulders slumping. "We're still short by more than half a silver."

The weight of their situation pressed down on them. The academy's final year was crucial, offering specialized training and the coveted awakening ceremony. But the tripled tuition fee, driven by limited resources and high demand, placed it out of reach for many families in Kabunlawan.

Judio stared at the coins, a knot forming in his stomach. The thought of not being able to attend his final year weighed heavily on him. He had always envisioned himself completing his education and undergoing the true awakening ceremony alongside his peers. The idea of being left behind was almost unbearable.

"We've given up so much already," Lena murmured. "Sold the extra livestock, skipped meals... I thought it would be enough."

Judio clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up. "There has to be another way. Maybe I can find work in the market or offer tutoring to younger students."

Lena looked at him, her eyes filled with both pride and sorrow. "You've worked so hard, Judio. It's not fair that money stands in the way of your future."

He met her gaze, determination hardening his features. "I won't let this stop me. I'll find a way to earn the rest before the registration deadline."

As the evening deepened, Lena watched as Judio stepped out into their small backyard.

The garden was modest but lush, a testament to their hard work and the fertile soil of Kabunlawan. Judio moved among the rows of plants, carefully harvesting vegetables for the next day's market. He handled each plant with care, ensuring not to damage the produce or the plant itself.

After gathering a basketful of fresh ampalaya (bitter gourd), sitaw (string beans), and talong (eggplant)—staples in their diet and popular in the market—Judio sat down at a small wooden table near the garden. He pulled out a worn sheet of paper and began noting down the day's harvest, meticulously recording each item and its quantity.

This practice helped them keep track of their potential earnings and manage their finances more effectively.

Lena observed her son from the doorway, a mix of emotions swirling within her. Seeing Judio's diligence and determination reminded her so much of her late husband.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she thought of him.

"If your father were still alive," she began, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow, "he would be very proud of you." A hint of sadness flickered in her eyes. "He was such a meticulous planner. Perhaps if he were here, we wouldn't have to struggle so much."

Moved by her words, Judio leaned in and embraced his mother. "You've done more than enough, Ma."

As they held each other, Lena's composure wavered, and silent tears began to roll down her cheeks. Sensing her son's concern, she quickly wiped them away as they parted.

Forcing a reassuring smile, Lena said, "I'll do my best to save enough for your education. If it comes to it, I might approach the town elders for a loan."

Judio gently shook his head. "It's alright, Ma. If we can't manage it this year, I can always proceed with the awakening next year. The final studies and true awakening can wait. Please, don't overexert yourself."

Lena looked into her son's eyes, seeing both his resolve and his compassion. She nodded slowly, appreciating his understanding. In that shared moment, they found solace in each other's strength, ready to face the uncertainties ahead together.

As the night grew darker, Judio stood and stretched, feeling the strain in his muscles from the day's work. He glanced up at the stars, their light flickering above like distant whispers of hope. His eyes lingered on the faint silhouette of Kabunlawan's mountain range, a reminder of the barriers that separated his world from the unknown.

"Tomorrow, I'll get it," he muttered to himself, trying to push away the doubt that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. "I have to."

The next day, Judio set out early to the town's market with the basket of vegetables balanced carefully on his back. The air was thick with the smell of fresh produce, the chatter of vendors, and the movement of people who bustled between stalls, bartering for goods. As he walked, his mind raced with ideas on how he might raise the remaining funds.

He reached his usual spot near the edge of the market, setting up his small stall with a few baskets of vegetables on a worn wooden table. People passed by, glancing at his offerings with a mixture of interest and indifference.

Business had been slow recently, and he felt the weight of every glance that lingered a little too long on the less-than-perfect produce.

"Judio, my boy!" A familiar voice called out from behind him.

Judio turned to see Tatay Benji, an elderly vendor who had always offered him advice and support when times were tough. Tatay Benji was well into his seventies, his wrinkled face and hunched back evidence of decades spent under the sun. Despite his age, his sharp eyes and quick wit had kept him a respected figure in the market.

"Tatay Benji!" Judio smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. "I didn't expect to see you today."

Tatay Benji laughed, his voice raspy but cheerful. "I may be old, but I'm not dead yet. What brings you out here so early? You don't usually set up this far out."

Judio hesitated for a moment before answering. "I need to raise the rest of the money for my registration fee. The academy is asking for 3 silver coins, but I'm short... I thought maybe if I work extra hard, I can make up the difference."

Tatay Benji nodded knowingly, his expression turning thoughtful. "It's tough, Judio. The market's been slow. But I've seen that look in your eyes before. You're not one to give up easily. If you're willing to work harder than the rest, there's always a way. I might have an idea."

Judio's curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

The elderly vendor leaned in close, lowering his voice. "I overheard a few merchants from the main settlement talking about a caravan passing through the village tomorrow.

They're looking for someone to help transport goods up to the mountain passes. They're offering a fair wage, and if you help them, you could earn enough to cover the rest of your fees."

Judio felt a flicker of hope stir inside him. "A caravan? Where can I find them?"

"Head up to the old trail tomorrow morning. They'll be setting up near the eastern road by sunrise," Tatay Benji said, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "But be quick. They don't wait for long."

Judio felt a surge of determination. This might be the break he needed.

"Thank you, Tatay Benji. I'll make sure to be there."

The elderly vendor chuckled softly. "I've seen that fire in you before, boy. Don't let it go out."

Judio spent the day at the market, working tirelessly to sell the basket of vegetables he had harvested yesterday evening. The sun hung high in the sky as he called out to potential buyers, his voice growing hoarse from the repeated chants. "Fresh ampalaya! Tender talong! Sweet sitaw, just picked!"

The hustle of the marketplace surrounded him—bustling vendors, the chatter of townsfolk bargaining, and the clinking of coins changing hands. He weaved through the crowd, offering his goods with determination, hoping to gather enough to make up for the gap in their savings.

By midday, his basket was nearly empty, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. His hard work had paid off. The final purchase was a bundle of fresh string beans, sold to a young couple in need of some ingredients for dinner. When the transaction was complete, Judio gathered the remaining coins, feeling the weight of each one. The sales were good, but he still wasn't sure if it would be enough to make up for the shortfall.

As the market quieted and the sun began its descent, Judio packed up his stall, his mind still preoccupied with the registration fee. The cool evening breeze greeted him as he made his way home, brushing against his skin like a gentle reminder of the day's end. With each step, the familiar scents of Kabunlawan filled the air, but one in particular stood out—the savory, tangy aroma of sinigang, his favorite soup, wafting from the direction of the house.

As he neared the house, his senses heightened. The bamboo structure, well-worn but sturdy, stood against the backdrop of a fading sun, its silhouette familiar and reassuring. Inside, he could hear the soft clatter of utensils, the sound of Lena preparing their meal. She must have been tidying up, as usual, to welcome him home.

Stepping through the door, Judio was immediately greeted by the warmth of the room, contrasting with the cooling air outside.

Lena was at the hearth, her movements graceful yet tinged with the exhaustion of the day. When she looked up at him, her tired smile was a mixture of relief and love. Her eyes, though, betrayed the weight she carried—the silent worry that hung over them both.

"You're back," Lena said, her voice soft yet filled with a quiet strength. "I've made your favorite, sinigang, just the way you like it."

Judio's heart fluttered at the thought of the meal, but as he stepped closer, he couldn't ignore the underlying weariness in her eyes.

Life had been hard, and their struggles weighed on both of them. Yet, in that moment, despite the burden they shared, the comfort of home and the taste of sinigang brought a fleeting sense of peace.