In San Diego, I sat quietly on a map of the Philippines etched into the ground, a moment that stirred memories and emotions I didn’t expect. Seeing my homeland honored in a World War II memorial reminded me of the stories I grew up with: of Filipino and American soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, of courage in the face of impossible odds, of Bataan, Corregidor, and the long, painful road to liberation. The gold stars and engraved names around me weren’t just symbols, they were echoes of sacrifice, resilience, and shared history. As I traced the lines across the west Philippine Sea, I felt both pride and longing. That map beneath me wasn’t just geography, it was a piece of home, a reminder of where I come from and the legacy that lives on.
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