One afternoon in early July, the beach of Urbiztondo – San Juan, La Union was full of people. The laughter and voices of children calling to each other mixed with the sound of the waves. But for Aling Hilda, the memory of this place is a wound that will never heal. Eight years ago, here too, she lost her only daughter – little Tala, who had just turned 10 years old.
That day, the couple had gone swimming. Aling Hilda turned around to get a towel when she couldn’t see her daughter anymore. At first, she thought Tala had run away with her friends in the group, but she searched the entire beach and asked everyone, but no one saw her. The beach management board and the San Juan rescue team were immediately notified, and the loudspeaker blared loudly to search for the girl wearing a blue floral dress and ponytail, but to no avail.
Lifeguards dived to search, and the PNP San Juan (local police) also joined in, but no trace was found. Not even a single sandal, not a single toy or small bag of Tala’s. It was as if everything had disappeared.
The news spread: “10-year-old girl, mysteriously missing from La Union beach.” Some thought she was being affected by the waves, but the sea was calm that day. Some suspected that she had been abducted, but the cameras in the area did not clearly record it.
A few weeks later, the family sadly returned to Tarlac City, carrying a bleeding wound. From then on, Aling Hilda began her endless days of searching for her daughter: printing flyers, asking for groups of volunteers, driving to neighboring provinces to follow up on every rumor that “a girl who looks like Tala” had been seen. But all of this was just an illusion.
Mang Nardo, her husband, fell ill from the shock and died three years later. The villagers said that Aling Hilda was very strong to continue running the small sari-sari shop alone, living while holding onto the hope of finding her son. To her, Tala never died. She always thought that her son was still somewhere, as long as she didn’t give up, she would see him again someday.
Eight years later, one hot April morning, Aling Hilda was sitting in front of her door selling goods when she heard the sound of an engine stopping. A group of young men stopped on the AH26 (Pan-Philippine Highway) to buy water. She didn’t pay attention for a moment, until her eyes stopped: on one of the men’s right arms was a tattoo of a little girl.
The drawing was not detailed: a round face, bright eyes, hair tied in a ponytail. But to her, it was familiar. Her heart ached, her hands trembled, her glass of water almost fell. It was Tala’s face.
Unable to help herself, she boldly asked:
— Sir, who is this tattooed person?
The man paused for a moment, then smiled awkwardly:
— Ah… just an acquaintance, ‘No.’
The answer made Aling Hilda’s heart pound. She tried to calmly ask for more, but the group of young men quickly paid and started the engine and drove off. She ran towards them, just in time to see the license plate obscured by the crowded crowd.
That night, she nodded and turned her back to him. Her son’s face and hand touched her. Why did the stranger have a tattoo on Tala? What was their connection? Was her son still alive and this person a clue?
The next morning, she went to the barangay hall to explain the incident. At first, everyone thought it was just a coincidence – maybe a random tattoo similar to Tala’s. But Aling Hilda insisted:
— I am the mother, there is no mistake. That is my son.
The commune police noticed and agreed to help verify. She also actively asked around, and asked motorcycle/tri-cycle drivers to keep an eye out. Whenever she saw a young man riding a strange motorcycle, she nervously looked after him.
A week passed, she suddenly received a message from a moto-taxi: a group of young men were seen gathering at a carinderia near the Dau Bus Terminal (Mabalacat, Pampanga).
Aling Hilda immediately looked for them, but they just left. The owner said that they came often, and the tattooed man named Carlo, who was in his 30s, worked as a long-distance truck driver.
Hearing this, Aling Hilda became even more determined. For the first time in eight years, a real light flashed. But she didn’t expect that this journey would be more thorny and uncertain than before.
She continued to follow. After many days of waiting at the carinderia, she finally met Carlo again. The same old motorcycle, the same arm with the little girl’s tattoo. She took a risk and stepped forward, blocking the door, her eyes both trembling and determined:
— Sir, let me ask you honestly… Who is the tattoo on your arm?
Carlo was momentarily shocked and then sighed. She hesitated, then said softly:
— ‘Now, don’t ask too many questions. I just want to remember the person I met.
The answer made her even more suspicious. Aling Hilda pleaded:
— My daughter disappeared in San Juan, La Union eight years ago. I looked at that picture… She really is like my daughter. If you know anything, tell me.
Carlo avoided her for a moment. But when he saw the mother’s tears, his face became heavy. He was silent for a long time and then whispered:
— That year, I followed a group of hired men for a strange man. I happened to see a girl crying near the beach. I was just a child then, I didn’t dare to interfere. But the girl’s face haunted me forever, so I got a tattoo so I wouldn’t forget.
Hearing this, Aling Hilda was stunned. Her heart ached and hoped. If what Carlo said was true, it meant that Tala had not drowned, but had been taken away. But who was that person? Where was he now?
Following this, the PNP invited Carlo back to give a statement. Old missing person records were reviewed, timelines were compared, and witnesses were found. Some pieces of the puzzle gradually fell into place: at that time, there were strangers around the beach, suspected of human trafficking. The NBI Anti-Human Trafficking Division was also consulted.
Aling Hilda was both afraid and hopeful. Over the past eight years, she had learned to live with the loss, but now the fire to find her son was burning again. Every night, she prayed: just one more time to see her son, even if it was just to know that he was alive.
The story was still not over. But for Aling Hilda, seeing that tattoo was proof: Tala existed in the memory of an outsider. And that was enough for her to believe – her son was still there, waiting to return.