The next day, after the emotional welcome for Mayor Andy in Barangay Balutu, we were on the road again, our hearts once more full and lifted by new hope.
Today's route was Barangay Sta. Rosa and Barangay Murcia, all the way to Sitio Aquino. But none of us expected the sheer number of people who would come out.
As we approached Sta. Rosa, traffic slowed to a crawl, not because of an accident, but because so many people were outside their homes, lining up, waiting.
I saw groups of kids banging on pot lids, chanting in unison:
"Andy! Andy! Bring Back the Red!"
We passed all sorts of creative displays. Some households had red cloth hanging from their gates, some kids wore old, tattered campaign shirts, and there were mothers holding back tears as they handed over simple gifts—flowers, garlands, and hand-made banners that read:
"For One Concepcion – Mayor Andy Lacson!"
The noise wasn't chaos. It was the voice of a community that had been silent for too long, now speaking up again. And what they were saying didn't need further explanation:
"You're still our Mayor."
By evening, when we arrived in Barangay Murcia, we barely recognized the covered court. It was decorated top to bottom, red balloons on the roof, a red carpet down the middle. But this wasn't a wedding. It was the community's renewed promise of support for Mayor Andy Lacson's leadership.
As soon as he arrived, people from the barangay rushed to greet him. They placed a colorful, fragrant garland around his neck. Youth groups marched in with red flags, others laid posters on the floor while chanting his name:
"Andy! Andy! Andy!
For a New Concepcion!"
He didn't head straight to the stage. Instead, he walked all around the court, shaking hands one by one, hugging the elderly, stopping to greet every family group. He even stood on a chair in the middle, raised his hands, and the entire court roared so loud it felt like it shook.
When he finally spoke, he didn't need a long introduction.
"I'm not an actor. But you make me feel important. And with all the people here tonight, you've shown me that you still love me—more than I ever thought."
Many were in tears, not because of any promise he made, but because of the memories, the connection, and the loyalty.
"Murcia... from the start, you've given us strength. And if you'll let me come back, I won't turn away. Instead, I'll face everything, together with you, to help Concepcion rise again."
After the miting de avance, people didn't leave right away. Some waited for a chance to take photos, others just stood there quietly looking at Mayor Andy, as if making sure it was all real.
In the middle of the court, while he held the rosaries, flowers, and letters given by barangay residents, an elderly man came close and whispered:
"Mayor, this run of yours... it's not just a campaign. For us, it's an answered prayer."
And under the red balloons and the stars that night, the town's history was written once again, not with gold or power, but with conviction, faith, and true love.