Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about a quiet hike I took back in 2023-one of those simple moments that stayed with me. After spending too much time in Baguio City, surrounded by its busy streets and concrete corners, I felt the need to step away. I craved the forest, the sound of running springs, the kind of green you don’t find in the city. So I returned to my hometown and decided to hike into a nearby forest-not a popular mountain, just a quiet, familiar trail.

I wasn’t looking for a grand adventure. I just wanted to be among trees, to hear the wind move through the leaves and let the noise of the city fade away. My siblings came with me, and we camped overnight beneath the canopy. The night was alive with crickets, the distant calls of nocturnal birds, and the occasional rustle of animals moving nearby. The wind whispered through the trees, wrapping us in calm.

By morning, the forest was draped in fog. Everything felt still and sacred. That kind of silence stays with you. We made coffee and took slow sips as we watched the fog in the valley below rise up like a gentle tide. It felt like a hidden paradise.

From our vantage point, we could see scattered houses here and there, their roofs barely peeking through the mist. In the distance, a murky river-swollen from the rain the night before-snaked its way deeper into the mountains, disappearing into the folds of the hills. The view was humbling, grounding. It reminded me how small we are, and how beautiful the world can be when we pause long enough to notice.

Afterwards, we went down to the spring nearby. We climbed the thick roots of a balete tree and played in the cold, clear water. My brothers were just nearby, watching us and quietly keeping us ladies safe. They gave me the space to completely immerse myself in nature-letting me reconnect with something I didn’t realize I’d been missing. There was laughter, splashing, and a kind of freedom that only places like that can offer.

When I returned to Baguio, I felt different-rejuvenated. It wasn’t just a break from the city; it was a reset. Looking back now, that trip holds even more meaning. It was the last time-maybe the penultimate time-that I went home before moving to Thailand and eventually to the U.S. Since then, life has taken me far from those quiet trails and foggy mornings.

But every now and then, when things get loud or overwhelming, I think back to that moment: the coffee, the fog, the silence, and the feeling of being exactly where I needed to be.