Hey Hive! It’s Seth again. Hope you’re all doing good.
So… today’s story is a bit different. Less drama, more peace. I just want to tell you about a place that made me feel something I haven’t felt in a while — like my mind finally got to breathe.
It started with my mom. She looked at me one day and said, “You look drained. Come, let’s go somewhere quiet.” I smiled, but inside I was actually really thankful. It’s been rough with school — math problems piling up, projects left and right, and my brain constantly in overdrive. I guess she saw right through me.
We left around 8 in the morning. Just me, mom, and a few of our younger cousins. We packed snacks, towels, sunscreen — the usual. The ride was about an hour and a half, but I didn’t mind. The road going to Nasipit was peaceful. Trees everywhere. A few sleepy carabaos in the field. Kids chasing each other barefoot. I rolled down the window and just let the breeze hit my face. Felt good.
Then we arrived.
Amontay Beach Resort.
I’ve never been there before, even though it’s not that far from home. But the moment I stepped out of the car — wow. The air? Fresh. The view? Clear sky, clean sea, soft waves, and the smell of salt and trees mixed together. It was quiet, but not the lonely kind. The good kind.
We logged in, found a table, dropped our stuff, and next thing you know, I’m in the water with goggles on. I didn’t even wait to change. I was that excited.
The sea was calm. Not too cold, not too warm. I floated on my back and looked up at the clouds. For a while, I just stayed there. No phone. No thoughts. Just water, sky, and silence. And you know what? I needed that more than I realized.
Then this happened — a group of fish jumped out of the water, right near where I was. Like, actual jumping fish. I shouted so loud my cousins laughed at me, but I didn’t care. I was amazed. It was something you usually only see in videos.
The rest of the day was slow in the best way. We ate chips, shared stories, took photos (some really bad selfies too). My mom just sat under a tree watching us. She didn’t say much, but she smiled a lot. I know that look — it means “this is exactly what I hoped for.”
And honestly? Me too.
That beach gave me something I didn’t even know I was missing. Space to breathe. Time to pause. A reminder that even when life gets loud, there are places — and people — that make it quiet again.
Before we left, I walked to the shore one last time. The wind was softer. The waves, smaller. I stood there for a minute and thought, “This... I want to remember this.”
If you’re around Nasipit, drop by Amontay. It’s not fancy. It doesn’t need to be. Sometimes, the quietest places speak the loudest to your heart.
Thanks for sticking around, Hive.
Catch you next blog. 🌊
