With each day of our rounds, it felt like a picture was slowly coming together, a picture of a town that was waiting, hoping, and ready to stand up again.
But there was something different about this day, because our next stop was Barangay Balutu—a place known not for fancy facilities, but for the strong principles of its people.
The sun was hot, but the welcome was even warmer. With every step on the street, there were hands ready to shake ours and smiles greeting us. The doors didn't just open, they opened wide, as if to embrace the whole Team Anjo.
And there i was reminded again of something i have always known deep in my heart:
"Barangay Balutu cannot be bought with any money or material things."
Because from then until now, their hearts have always belonged to just one name, Mayor Andy David Lacson.
At every corner we visited, there were snacks waiting, native rice cakes, sandwiches, biscuits, and cold water. Some had prepared their own banners. Others simply hung a red cloth in front of their homes to show their support.
There was an old man who could hardly walk, but he still tried to step outside to greet Mayor. His hand was shaking when he reached out for a blessing.
He whispered to Mayor:
"Mayor, as long as i'm alive, I will always support and vote for you."
Mayor was moved to tears by those words.
"Thank you so much for your support, Tay," he said, hugging the old man.
"Mayor," the old man replied, "you deserve to come back because you have never been selfish to us."
As we kept going house to house in Barangay Balutu, one scene stood out to me and the whole group, a simple family sitting in front of their home, quietly waiting under the hot sun.
They didn't have banners or flags, but their small offering was sincere: a few biscuits on a plate, and cold water in a pitcher with some glasses.
When we came closer, the mother stood up right away.
"Mayor, we've been waiting here for you. We don't have anything big to give, but we hope you'll accept this. It comes from our hearts."
Mayor smiled, clearly touched. He took a glass of water and said,
"These moments... this is why I never got tired of coming back."
Just a few meters further, another touching moment happened.
At a corner, after a short chat with a senior citizen, a family came forward holding a plastic bag. They quietly handed it to him.
"Mayor, please accept this," said the father.
When Mayor opened the bag, inside was a pair of shoes.
"Thank you... it's an honor to accept this," Mayor said as he shook their hands.
As we kept walking, the warm welcome never stopped. In every street and alley, it wasn't just cheers we heard, but heartfelt gifts from people—rosaries like a mother's prayer for a safe campaign, flowers as a sign of respect and hope, and garlands placed around Mayor's neck by elders and children as if saying, "You are still our number 1."
Others offered simple gifts, a hand-sewn red handkerchief, a drawn portrait, homemade rice cakes, even fruits from their gardens. These may look ordinary to others, but to Mayor, they were priceless.
Even when night came, you wouldn't see tiredness in people's eyes. They waited patiently, some sitting on benches, others standing by the road holding their child's hand. No complaints, no doubts. Just the wish to see again the man they loved then and still love now.
With every handshake, every garland, every gift given with a smile, the reason why Mayor Andy deserved it became even clearer, not because of wealth or power, but because people truly loved him.
Before the program started, people were already arriving, each one carrying something: a light, a flag, a banner, or simply a heart full of hope. The venue was packed. Some sat on the pavement, others stood by trees, children in their parents' arms, all just wanting to see the man who was never a stranger to them.
When Mayor Andy started to speak, everything went quiet. The once-loud cheers turned into silence.
And then he said:
"Balutu was a witness to my youth, my years of service, and now, my return. If there's one thing I will never forget about you—it's the trust that never faded, no matter how many years passed."
"I can't repay you with money, but i can repay you with service and love, for as long as i have strength and the chance."
Many were in tears, not because of promises, but because in Mayor's voice was sincerity, a new commitment, and faith. A man who came back not to force himself, but to offer everything again.
In Barangay Balutu, I learned again that real loyalty doesn't come from campaigning.
It's planted, cared for, and allowed to grow in the hearts of real people.
And that night during the miting de avance, as the crowd shouted:
"BRING BACK THE RED!"
"BALUTU IS STILL FOR ANDY LACSON!"
...I realized it wasn't just Mayor Andy who came back to them.
They also came back to him.
Completely. With their whole hearts. And finally, with the courage to say:
"We cannot be bought, but we are here for you."