From the 28th floor of a high-rise in Causeway Bay, Rosa Velarde looked out the apartment window as the city began to stir. Neon signs dimmed against the growing light, trams rattled on the streets below, and people moved briskly, chasing their daily grind. But inside the glass walls of the Wong household, her work had already begun.
Rosa, 41, from San Mateo, Rizal, had been working as a domestic helper in Hong Kong for nearly six years. Before that, she was a single mother raising two children with the income she earned from selling rice cakes and cleaning houses part-time. Life was a daily negotiation between bills, groceries, and tuition fees. When her youngest child fell ill and hospital bills piled up, Rosa made the difficult decision: she would work abroad.
The transition wasn’t easy. Her first employer treated her coldly. She wasn’t allowed to use the family’s refrigerator. Her room was a tiny storage space beside the laundry area. Meals were rationed, and her phone use was strictly monitored. She cried quietly at night, missing her children and the warmth of home.
But Rosa endured. She reminded herself why she was there: to give her kids a future. After two years, she transferred to a kinder employer Mrs. Wong, a widowed teacher with two young children. Life didn’t get easier, but it became more bearable. Mrs. Wong treated Rosa with respect, gave her proper food and rest days, and even helped her enroll in free computer classes on Sundays.
During her day off, Rosa would go to Central and sit with other Filipinas at Chater Garden. There, under trees and over shared snacks, she found sisterhood. They talked about sacrifices, heartbreaks, achievements, and dreams. Some were supporting entire barangays back home. Some had never met their own grandchildren. Some were nearing retirement, with no clear plan of what came next.
Back in the Wong household, Rosa became more than just a helper. She was a tutor, cook, and second mother to the children. When the youngest, Ellie, had nightmares, she would run to Rosa’s room. When Mrs. Wong got sick with dengue, it was Rosa who nursed her back to health.
Meanwhile, her own children in the Philippines were thriving. Her daughter had graduated with a degree in education and was now teaching in a public school. Her son, who once had to share a cellphone with three cousins, had finished a vocational course in automotive repair. Rosa had also started paying for the construction of a small two bedroom house in San Mateo. It wasn’t big, but it was hers.
One quiet evening, Rosa sat by the apartment window again. She looked out at the glittering skyline of Hong Kong, a city that had tested her strength and taught her grace. She took a deep breath and whispered to herself, “One more year. Then I go home for real this time. She smiled,
Because sometimes, dreams don’t always need grand stages. Sometimes, they grow slowly in kitchens, on balconies, and inside small, rented rooms nurtured by love, sacrifice, and an unshakable will to carry on.
