My 13th Month Pay Tradition

Every December, when the numbers on my payslip look a little kinder, I already know where that extra amount will go. I don’t even think twice. My 13th month pay has always belonged to my parents.

It started simply, a young version of me, excited about her first bonus, wanting to give something back to the people who gave her everything. I didn’t have grand plans or savings goals then; I just wanted to say “thank you” in the only way I could. I thought it would be a one-time thing. But somehow, it became a tradition, quiet, constant, and deeply mine.

Maybe that’s the thing about gratitude. Once you begin to express it, it roots itself in you. It grows with you.

Every year, I send the money home through remittance. I don’t get to see their faces in person, but I can hear and imagine the excitement in their voices. I know how they usually spend it — on small house renovations, new appliances, or something the whole family can enjoy. Sometimes, they even use a bit for their little indulgences, and that makes my heart full. It feels like I’m part of their joy, even from miles away.

It’s not about the amount. It never was. It’s about the feeling of being able to give back, even in small ways, to the hands that carried me through the hardest parts of growing up.

I know they’d tell me to keep it for myself, for bills, for rest, for plans I keep postponing, and sometimes I do feel that tug. Especially when I hear others talk about what they’ll buy with theirs: a new gadget, a trip, a long-awaited reward. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We all celebrate differently.

But maybe this is how I celebrate too, not through purchases, but through presence. Not through possessions, but through love that has taken years to return home.

While others plan for major purchases, I quietly invest mine into love, the kind that doesn’t depreciate, the kind that keeps me grounded no matter how messy life gets. Every peso I send back to my parents feels like a seed planted in the soil that raised me. It doesn’t multiply in the bank, but it grows in the heart.

Because beneath all the misses and beyond all the messes, this is where I bloom best, in the act of giving back to where my roots still whisper, you’ve done well, anak. - MESSY E.

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