28/05/2026
During the hottest month of drought, the rivers dried up and the fields cracked under the burning sun. In a small hut beside the dusty hills lived a young boy named Tino with his sick mother.
For many days, they had almost nothing to eat.
Every morning, Tino walked barefoot to the rocky hill carrying a small basket. There, among the dry stones, grew a few edible cactus pads. Carefully, he cut them, cleaned away the tiny thorns, and cooked them over a weak fire.
It was bitter and plain, but it was all they had.
One night, while sharing the last cooked cactus with his mother, she quietly pushed her share back to him.
“Anak, ikaw na lang,” she whispered weakly.
But Tino shook his head and smiled even though his stomach ached.
“Kapag kumain tayo nang sabay, parang busog na rin tayo pareho.”
Under the silent moon and the cruel drought, the poor meal became enough — because love made it feel fuller than any feast.