For about 25 years, our family had frequented an amazing resort out of town. There we spent a night or two and basked in all the amenities for its paying (a steep fee paid with hard-earned installments while I was still in workplace) club members.
Every cent had been worth it.
The place is perched on a mountaintop, with every landscaped nook accessible via winding roads. It offered an unrestricted view of Taal volcano/lake and the towns that surround it.
We’d bring guests and friends here, who’d gush, “Breathtaking!” It was our palette of happy colors!
Everything suddenly faded when the pandemic assaulted us.
Now, after three long years, the health protocols have been scrapped. And so we thought of spending the weekend there (despite the two overlapping typhoons pummeling us with rains and winds) to claim back our palette of happy colors that we so missed.
At the entrance gate, there was only one car—ours. The glass-pained front office that used to teem with people was empty.
The reception area was dim. The pool tables were moved there from the recreation room. We asked for the lady who booked our stay and were told she had resigned. The two ladies who helped us looked as unfamiliar as they were with the system, groping along.
While Tony and I waited for our room assignment, sons #1 and #3 walked about, as though casing the joint. Their long faces and “report” distressed me: all facilites had been closed for repairs.
No more heated swimming pool, gym, spa, salon, dressing rooms, Jacuzzi, library, function rooms, recreation room, rows of aquariums, elevator, chat corners, and shuttle carts/vans. At the main dining room, the menu listed only eight ordinary dishes.
The other places that used to serve gourmet meals had been closed, too.
I feel so sad, I whispered.
My two sons whispered something like . . . we have happy memories here. My heart bawled.
The main hotel was padlocked (“for maintenance”) so we were led to the new building. The size of rooms had shrunk. And the walls? Bare.
Even the scenery was gone. From the patio, all I saw were trees, now very tall and very wide, blocking the panoramic view.
With nothing else to do, we napped the afternoon away. Is our palette of happy colors gone? Sob. 
Checking out early, son #3 said we could have lunch at an Italian restaurant that he spotted on our way to the resort. And irony of ironies, that was the highlight of our family time! Entering the place, we were welcomed by the aroma of excellent food. Around the lunch table, our joy more than made up for all the heartaches we felt at the resort.
No, the palette of happy colors need not go away. Grace enables wonderful memories to stay.
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