The air inside Mario and Teresa’s small apartment was heavy. They both sighed as they stared at the separation pay they had received. Unfortunately, they were both retrenchmented by the company they worked for due to its closure.

Mario had been a warehouse supervisor for five years, while Teresa was an admin staff. In an instant, their monthly income disappeared. To make matters worse, they were already deep in credit card debt because Teresa’s mother had fallen ill last month.

“Mario, how are we going to do it?” Teresa asked tearfully. “We won’t have anything to buy rice for next week. Meralco’s Notice of Disconnection has arrived.”

Mario held his wife’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mahal. I’ll find a way. Right now, we need to sell stuff. Let’s have a garage sale tomorrow. Let’s sell everything we don’t need.”

The next day, Saturday morning, they took out their old clothes, shoes, unused appliances, and their collections. A sign was posted on the gate: “GARAGE SALE: EVERYTHING MUST GO.”

It was painful for them to see their neighbors carrying the things they had worked so hard to buy.

“Can I have this blouse for just twenty pesos?” asked a neighbor.

“Okay, Mom. Take it,” Teresa replied with a forced smile, even though the blouse was a gift from Mario on their anniversary.

While Mario was busy taking care of the buyers of the old electric fan, Teresa was organizing a box of old books. These were Mario’s college books and some novels that were old and moldy.

“It’s so heavy,” Teresa complained.

She picked up a thick green hardbound encyclopedia. This book was an inheritance from Mario’s late grandfather. Teresa was planning to sell it for fifty pesos to a student looking for vintage books.

Teresa was about to open the book to see if there was a tear, when suddenly a brown envelope slid out from between the pages.

BANG!

The envelope fell to the floor. It was old, the edges were a bit frayed, and the paper was yellowing.

Teresa picked it up. “What’s this?”

She opened the envelope. Inside, there was a document with the Land Registration Authority stamp.

TRANSFER CERTIFICATE OF TITLE

Teresa’s eyes widened. “Mario! Mario, just a moment!”

Mario approached, sweaty and tired. “Why, my dear? Is there a problem?”

“Look at this,” Teresa handed over the document. “Isn’t this the land your Grandpa Isko gave you before he died ten years ago?”

Mario looked at the title. He scratched his head. “Ah, yes. That’s the one in Sitio Bato in the province. Didn’t we say before that it’s worthless? It’s a mountain. No signal, no electricity, all grass. We can’t even get there because there’s no road. Why did you even bother looking for it? Just hide it again.”

Mario was about to put the title back in the envelope when suddenly a black SUV pulled up in front of their garage sale. Two men in barongs and carrying attaché cases got out. They looked like government officials or lawyers.

Mario was nervous. “Hello, aren’t garage sales allowed? Will the BIR arrest us?”

One of the men approached. “Good afternoon. Are you Mr. Mario Delos Reyes?”

“Yes, I am. Why?” Mario replied nervously.

“Sir, we are from the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) and the National Infrastructure Corp. We have been looking for you for months. We went to your old address but you are no longer there. It’s a good thing someone directed us here.”

Mario and Teresa looked at each other.

“We are looking for you because of your property in Sitio Bato,” the official continued.

“That… that mountain?” Teresa asked. “Why? Is there illegal logging there? We don’t know anything about that!”

The official smiled. “No, Ma’am. In fact, your land measuring five hectares is in the middle of the government’s National Eco-Tourism Highway and Solar Power Plant Project.”

His companion opened his attaché case and took out a map.

“Here’s the plan. Your land is the most strategic location for the main terminal and access road. Because of this, your land is subject to expropriation, but since this is a rush project and it is now a prime lot, the government is willing to buy the land at the current market value plus zonal value.”

Mario didn’t understand the terms. “Just tell us, Sir. What does that mean?”

The official issued a Contract to Sell.

“Mr. Delos Reyes, we are here to offer Twenty-Five Million Pesos (P25,000,000.00) for your land. Cash payment immediately upon signing the deed of sale.”

Mario’s jaw dropped. Teresa dropped the rag she was holding.

“W-how much?!” they shouted in unison.

“Twenty-five million,” the official repeated. “And there is additional relocation assistance just in case.”

Teresa’s knees gave out and she sat down on the plastic bench they were selling. Mario, on the other hand, held on to the gate to keep from falling.

The “useless mountain” they had forgotten about for a decade, the piece of paper they had almost sold with the old book for fifty pesos, was the key to their ascent.

“Please accept it,” the official said. “We just need the original title.”

Mario shook his head and held up the envelope he was holding. “Here… here… it just fell out of the book.”

That day, the garage sale ended not because the merchandise was sold out, but because they no longer needed to sell. The couple hugged each other while crying in front of their neighbors who wondered why they were celebrating.

They paid off all their debts. They started their own businesses, and they also helped former coworkers who had lost their jobs. They did not sell the old encyclopedia; they placed it in a glass case in their new home—as a reminder that sometimes, wealth is not seen in the glitter of gold, but hidden in the pages of the past that time has preserved for the day you need it most.