good friday and the farm

31 Mar, 2024

in the past few years, it’s been an annual tradition that on good friday, my family retreats into a province a few hours away from the metro to find refuge in my godfather’s¹ farm. this year was no exception.

on friday morning, my parents and i loaded up our overnight bags and our two dogs into my dad’s old yaris, locked up our house, and left the city and its unforgiving heat.

the road trip was faster than usual since we didn’t have too many stopovers and we arrived at my godfather’s place around lunchtime. it was also hot, but not as scorching as the metro.

in accordance with good friday traditions, we didn’t have meat for lunch. my godfather prepared some fried fish, a very interesting omelette that looked like a mini pizza, and my favourite—monggo with tofu². this year, he also prepared some thinly sliced tofu fried to golden perfection. for me specifically, he said.

i like spending time in the farm, the cool breeze and the smell of grass and trees. i also like hearing how his life is going and, most of all, hearing stories of my dad when he was younger.

my godfather and my dad met in college, where my dad was a student and my godfather, a professor. they talk about how my dad was so much heavier back then and how he was part of their college’s varsity team for judo. then i hear about how my dad, at his heaviest, put all-you-can-eat promos in the red with how much he ate.

and then the stories move onto my dad’s family—how his younger brother was a thug and always angry, and how his younger sister was so much more reserved. now, my godfather says, they’ve matured into good people; into people who seem more at peace than they were when he first met them. my mom agrees, saying that my dad’s brother became more gentle with my birth and how their sister grew out of her shell as they befriended more people in the local dog owner circles.

my godfather updates us on his life. how he’s thinking about potentially retiring from the academe in the next few years; how his youngest daughter is expecting her second child and how his eldest is engaged (shh, it’s a secret). he’s preparing himself for an empty nest soon, which my dad thinks is hard for him and my godmother, since they’ve raised their children so preciously.

after lunch is served and finished, i meet their new cat: jet, who likes to bring them offerings of lego pieces and whose fur is silky and snout sharp. his eldest daughter kaye tells me he was adopted from an adoption drive, but their other cat ash was one who barged his way into their lives.

after i meet jet, we get a taste of their new hazelnut coffee, which is delectable, and i get handed a bowl of tasty coffee jelly.

my godfather finds out that i’ve only been eating two full meals a day recently with my new job’s odd hours, and tells me “when you’re here, eat all you want—eat in lieu of the missed meals.” i cry a little, because my relationship with food has never been that great³.

for merienda⁴, they show us the new part of their farm, a little deck overlooking the lush forest a few feet in front of their farm. there’s a little bamboo hut where we can lounge around and enjoy the cool afternoon breeze. we’re served kaya toast, mini doughnuts in chocolate, a ham and cheese sandwich, and their signature quencher: a bubbly juice cocktail that’s perfect for summer. also let’s not forget my dad’s favourite: popcorn!

we continue catching up, talking about dogs and school, and how my professors in college were horrible. my godfather, a tenured and well respected professor in his own college, is appalled that i had such horrid teachers. i liked that i had someone on my side.

we talk about the drama from an old company my dad worked for and the terrible people i worked with in college for my thesis. we talked about their old friends and a few world problems and laughed over bad jokes and whatnot.

my godfather is a well distinguished man, with awards for his writing and a high position in his college, but when i’m at his place, all i see is this teddy bear of a man who once helped my young father raise me. there’s love in his eyes when he tells me of how he used to come over and cook me food when i wouldn’t eat at all, and when he tells me my dad used to bike hours upon end just to come over his place to say hi.

a part of it makes me wonder why i’ve ever think about how i’m so difficult to love when family (him included) love me like breathing; how they take into account my food preferences and how they remember my eating habits from when i was 5.

in the morning, he prepares us our favourite for breakfast: coffee harvested from his farm and sends us off with a bunch of freshly harvested vegetables plus a bag of freshly popped popcorn for the road in case of traffic.

outside my parents’ earshot, he tells me “remember: me and your godmother are always here in case of anything.” a part of me melts yet again with the love he extends towards me.

a promise for another visit is thrown around and we drive out their property, car just a little bit heavier from the harvest they share with us. the retreat doesn't end until we get to the expressway and the air gets a bit warmer and buildings look a little too modern.

while another visit this year is uncertain, i can reassure myself that on next year’s good friday, my family will pack our overnight bags again and escape to his lovely farm just a few hours away from the metro.

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i hope everyone had a lovely easter! i had thursday and friday off on top of the weekend, so i'm a bit reluctant to go back to work tomorrow, hahaha૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

as always a song for you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

#dear diary