The next day, even though our bodies still felt the exhaustion from days of house-to-house visits and rallies, our hearts didn't mind the pain or heaviness.
Every hug, cheer, and smile from the people gave us new strength.
Today, we were headed to Barangay Caluluan, specifically Sitio Maligaya, a place whose very name seemed to promise happiness.
As we entered the sitio, the sun peeked through the trees. It was hot, but the welcome was even warmer.
We immediately noticed a group of elderly women happily waiting by the roadside. They were holding a big tarpaulin with Mayor Andy's smiling photo in his red shirt.
You could see in their hands the signs of hard work, doing laundry, farming, preparing food for their families. But today, those same hands were raised high for the man they trusted to bring them hope.
One of the grandmothers walked up to Mayor and handed him the tarpaulin like it was a priceless gift. Her voice shook as she said:
"Mayor, when you were in office, we weren't afraid to ask for help. You're the reason many of us got our maintenance medicines. We believe you'll be back, because we're still here for you."
Mayor Andy couldn't hold back his tears. He held the grandmother's hand and hugged her.
"You're the true inspiration. You're the reason I don't give up. I'll carry your love with me for the rest of my life."
At that, all the grandmothers lifted their tarpaulin in the air and shouted in unison:
"Bring back the Red!"
At every house we visited in Caluluan, there was a snack waiting, a cold drink, or a simple hug. No one asked for anything in return, only gave thanks.
One mother said:
"Mayor, we don't have fancy gifts. But this water and these biscuits come from our hearts. As long as Caluluan has honest hearts, there will be a place for the color red."
True loyalty isn't measured by wealth, but by the depth of trust in a person.
From Caluluan, we headed to Barangay Mabilog. At first, it seemed quiet. But as always, you shouldn't be fooled by silence.
When we turned a corner, the crowd suddenly swelled.
It was like a wave of laughter and cheering greeting us:
"Mayor Andy! He's here! Bring back the Red!"
The streets were filled with colorful decorations. There was even one guy carrying... a pair of briefs.
Yes, red briefs.
Embroidered with:
"Bring back the Red – Mayor Andy David Lacson!"
It made everyone burst out laughing, even Mayor himself couldn't help it. But behind the joke was a serious message.
"Mayor," one man said as he adjusted the decorations, "it's symbolic. Even with the simplest thing, we want to show that you're still the one we want back. From the inside out, you're our vote from the heart."
The cheers erupted again. Their playful energy wasn't just for fun—it was proof of real love for their leader.
In Mabilog, support knew no limits. Kids were painting banners while sitting on the pavement. Mothers were brewing coffee and serving biscuits on the sidewalk.
Grandmothers sat on plastic chairs holding rosaries. Their presence spoke clearly:
"We're here, Mayor."
By nightfall, the covered court of Mabilog was packed. No one cared about the mosquitoes, sweat, or aching legs.
When Mayor Andy arrived, the cheers and applause filled the air. People held balloons, banners, and the famous pot lids. Onstage, they even displayed the red briefs that said "Bring back the Red," now with a big red flag behind it.
The crowd fell silent as Mayor spoke, his voice calm but firm:
"There's nothing that can match the welcome you've given me. Your smiles, your hugs, your trust—those are treasures I could never repay, even with my whole life."
"If there's a brief up here, I'm ready to be naked before you, naked of pride, of lies, of selfishness. What will remain is a heart that's red through and through, for all of you."
That night at Mabilog's rally, it wasn't just banners, flowers, or pot lids that stood out. It wasn't just the laughter or the chants that filled the air.
The true star was the people's promise, the vow of the elders, the mothers, the youth, the ordinary folks. Despite the passing of time, hardship, or jokes, their hearts had never changed sides.
Still for Mayor Andy.
Still Team Anjo.
Still for the Red.
And with every step Mayor Andy took on those roads, he left a mark. Every hand he shook, every eye that met his, they all spoke the same message:
"We won't give up. Bring back the Red. Bring back Mayor Andy."