IN THE heart of the floating market, the sun’s rays shimmer on the water against the dozen tiny star-shaped lanterns. Vibrant canopies stretch over small wooden boats. The scents of murky water and fresh fruits linger in the air.
The boatman grips his oar with his gnarled hand. He glances back at his passengers, whose gazes dart from the colorful trinkets to the mist emitting from steamed sweets served by a nearby boat.
With his guests’ curious eyes unmoved, his focus shifts to the vendors preparing purple rice cakes. In a rhythmic motion, the boatman maneuvers his vessel closer to the bustling stall.
Many others lean over the side, capturing the tableau on their cameras, their curiosity mingling with each other.
In a swift motion, the boatman secures the boat alongside the vendor. The vendor hands over a serving of colorful rice cakes, the sweet condensed milk dripping onto the deck. His guests take a bite. Their eyes widen in delight.
The more they drift away, the more the market’s colors clash. Women with sun hats shout cheerful greetings, while their children make small splashes at the river’s edge, oblivious to the labor at hand.
Despite its vibrant colors, the scenery begins to blur.
It is another day for the boatman. Just like his previous guests, today’s companies also leave parts of themselves behind, with hints of adventure evident on their lips.
Amid everything, all he can think of is his family at home, waiting for him and the little presents he has in store.
Among the many places he has rowed to, he only longs to drift back to his only home. F – Ren Sophia Bughaw
