Even before the weariness left our feet, or the tears of gratitude from last night had fully dried, we once again faced another day of walking, shaking hands, and listening, a seemingly endless task, but at every corner, there was always a new reason to keep going.
Barangay Santiago.
The moment we arrived in Santiago, it felt like a reunion, not just because of the crowd that turned out, but because of the warmth of their hugs, applause, and the cheers that greeted us:
"Mayor Andy! Welcome back to Santiago!"
At the very first corner, a family was waiting. They had set up tables in front of their house, with trays of bread and water for us. But even more striking was the tarp of the mayor hanging proudly on their wall.
At every house we passed, children waved red balloons. Elderly residents came forward, carrying memories along with them. One of them handed over flowers picked right from their own garden.
There was also a group of young people holding banners you could tell they'd made themselves as a thank-you for their beloved mayor.
As we approached Sitio Yangca, rain suddenly poured down, not just a light drizzle, but a heavy, unrelenting rain, as if the sky itself was sharing in the weight of the campaign's emotions.
I honestly thought no one would come out. That we'd stay in the vehicle and the house-to-house would have to stop. But even before we could get out, I saw them up ahead, umbrellas.
Bright, colorful umbrellas.
People of all ages, from the youngest to the oldest, were standing in the rain, smiling, holding banners, waving red cloths. Some had no umbrellas at all, they just let themselves get soaked, so long as they could see Mayor Andy.
One old man sat on a small stool, clutching his cane and a plastic banner. His shoulders were drenched, his hands trembled, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Even if my whole body is soaked, I just want to see Mayor," he whispered with a smile.
The young people didn't hide under roofs or run into their homes. They ran even further into the street, dancing in the rain, yelling:
"Andy! Andy! Bring back the Red!"
"Mayor... even if there's a storm of insults or a downpour of hardship, we know you'll be the one to catch us."
Mayor had no words. He could only smile and embrace them.
The rain wasn't an obstacle, it was proof. Even when drenched and shivering, their love held strong. Like the rain, their trust flowed through every heart in Yangca.
Later that day, we headed to Green Village. Even at the entrance, a massive tarp hung from the gate to welcome us.
Here, it wasn't just the people greeting us, it was as if the whole place was celebrating. Red bunting was strung up by the residents.
Handmade banners by children were everywhere, and the kids even prepared a dance number just for the mayor.
"We pray for you every day," said one elderly woman.
"We may not have much to offer for your campaign, but this is what we can give, our prayers, and the full support of our family."
After the thorough house-to-house in Santiago, Sitio Yangca, and Green Village, we went to the day's grand finale, the Miting de Avance.
By the time we returned to Barangay Santiago, a drizzle was falling. But instead of scattering, people drew closer. No one ran. No one left.
The covered court was overflowing. Children's clothes were soaked, but they still bounced with joy whenever Mayor Andy's name was called.
When Mayor climbed onto the stage, everyone fell silent. It was as if they were all waiting for words that weren't just about a campaign, but about hope they so badly wanted to embrace again.
"No rain will stop you. And no rain will stop me from serving you again," Mayor said, as the rain trickled down the edge of the stage.
Later, we went to the final venue of the night, Green Village.
Like the earlier barangay, the weather didn't stop anyone. The rain softened to a gentle whisper, but the people's cheers only grew louder.
"Mayor, you kept all your promises before. That's why, even with this night rain, we're still here for you."
Simple but heartfelt decorations lined the space: red balloons, basic lights.
When Mayor Andy stood in the center of the stage, he didn't hold a piece of paper. He had no long, flashy speech. He spoke only from the heart. And that was what truly moved everyone there.
"Rain is a blessing. Just like your unwavering love. The warmth of your welcome is even hotter than any summer sun. So even if I have to walk to every barangay, even if it rains every night, I will never grow tired. Because you are my reason."
No one left before the final word. No one wanted to be first to go. It was as if everyone wanted to soak in just a bit more of that night's warmth, a night that, even though drenched in rain, was overflowing with hope.
As we drove away from Green Village, people lined the sides of the road waving. Children, soaking wet, smiled and waved. An old man still held his umbrella, with a small red flag tied to it.
Inside the car, Mayor Andy was quiet. Through the window, he watched the people who refused to let go, not just for this campaign, but for every year, every battle, every passing season.
Even though the day was wrapped in rain, he remained the guiding light of the town.