🎨 From Disco to Doxology: Finding Home Between the Hymns and the Ice Cream

By Marie. Thursday, February 19, 2026

It’s funny how a single Sunday can take you on a journey through decades of your life.

Two weekends ago, my sister Bernadette and I found ourselves back in familiar territory—Malate Church (Our Lady of Remedies) for Sunday Mass. It’s been decades since I was a regular churchgoer, back when we lived nearby in Pasay, long before the days of our carinderia.

Sitting in the pew, I was surprised to find the hymns still resting on the tip of my tongue. The music unlocked something—a muscle memory of faith and routine that I thought I had lost. But as I sang, my mind—ever the writer’s mind—began to wander. I found myself studying the altar, comparing every corner of it to the old, coral-stone churches of my hometown in Iloilo.

In that quiet moment of prayer, a heavy realization settled over me: I was here, physically present, but my heart was looking for home.

For the longest time, Iloilo was the anchor. But standing there, I had to admit something painful yet freeing to myself. The people who made Iloilo "home"—my Mom, my Mamang, my grandparents, my uncles—they are all gone. The physical house remains, but the home I was looking for now exists only in memory.

I realized then that by choosing to stay in Laguna "for good," I wasn't abandoning them. I have become the vessel. My sister and I carry the history, the childhood memories (some painful, some we'd rather forget), the recipes, and the love of our elders within us. We are the mobile home now.

That thought carried me through the rest of the evening.

We headed to The Aristocrat afterwards—a place that holds a very different kind of memory for me! Decades ago, this was where my friends and I would end up for breakfast at 4:00 AM after "disco partying" at the nearby (and now gone) the iconic 5-star luxury resort Westin Philippines Plaza, located in the Cultural Centre of the Philippines Complex.

Back then, it was Chicken Barbecue to sober up. This Sunday? I settled for a comforting plate of Pancit Luglog. No nostalgia trip, just a quiet, efficient comfort meal. From disco to doxology, from wild nights to quiet Sundays—it’s a beautiful evolution to witness in oneself.

The weekend wasn't just about the past, though. It was a bridge to my new purpose.

We joined the board of trustees (and their partners) of Lift PH Up for breakfast at the Sheraton Manila Bay the next morning. They were enjoying a weekend to celebrate two of their friends' birthday. We were invited to come join the fun. Sitting there, I finally understood my role in this new chapter.

In this pack is the Visionary painting the destination. I am some sort of the "Builder" paving the road. I am translating dreams into ordinances, proposals, and websites. But, here's the thing that I now believe I cherish most: It’s not just "retirement work"; it’s the joy of the puzzle. It’s the journey, for me.

But the perfect ending to this emotional rollercoaster wasn't in a church or the Sheraton Manila Bay that served a once off boardroom. It was in the food court of Landmark in Makati.

We made a detour to Makati, just like old times. We bought a quart of avocado ice cream. It was a sensible downgrade from the massive, gallon-sized tubs we used to buy back when we were Makati residents—the ones we would stubbornly try to finish until our throats literally froze!

Sitting there, sharing that simple treat without the brain freeze, I realized that while the geography of "home" has changed, the feeling hasn't.

Home is where you build it. It’s in the work you do for others, the memories you keep alive in your heart, and sometimes, it’s just sitting with your sister, eating avocado ice cream like you’re teenagers again.

Read:
The Flavors That Call Me Home
Why Women Collect More Shoes Than They Could Ever Wear
Why I Write from Memory
Your Journey Deserves To Be Remembered With Grace
Curtains Rise in Iloilo: Remembering My Nanay Mameng and the Zarzuela Stage
My Life in a 200-Year Old Heritage Home