written June 2, 2010 (last year!)
The worst thing about coming home is leaving again. Every time I go home, I want the time to slow down even for a bit to at least make my fleeting time at my hometown seem long. In a year, I only get to see my beloved family members in a span of 20 days. It’s lonely, really. But I know I have to keep chasing my dreams. I have to continue trying to spread my wings even if its price is really big. Things in this life all have their own prices after all. When you gain some, you lose some.
Every time I leave, I brace myself for another fast-paced life. Each time, I content myself with looking forward for my possible next visit home. Even if it’s 5/6 months later. It’s as if the highlight of my every year is those two days (in a year) when I’ll be flying back home. That means, my time moves every 6 months. That’s a little weird, but yeah, in the span of five or six months, I comfort my loneliness with the knowledge that perhaps God will allow me to see my family for 10 days or if I’m lucky, more. Things have been like this for some time, and now that I’m thinking about it, it has been already three years since my life has been like this. Three years. Three years of living away from my family. Lots and lots of things have happened to me, and lots and lots of things have changed. And in those many changes, although I welcome changes, sometimes, I long for something which has remained the same, something that reminds me of how I used to be, and what I used to be like. Years before.
One of these things, I should say is that one place which I could call my own, a place where I belong, no matter how things have drastically changed so much for me. In my witnessing the unfolding of the world with my own eyes, in the midst of all of its changing faces, I long for that one place where whenever I think about it, I feel the security of never having to be lost somewhere. Because if I do, I’ll always have something to find, something to remind me that I’ll have a place to return to.
I’ve talked about my family. Returning to my family every 6 months. Yes, that’s true. But it isn’t as well. It will be if I’m the only one who’s gonna have to do the returning. But in actuality, when I said returning to my family regularly every six months, I meant, returning to my sister, my grandmother, my cousins, aunts, and uncle. My mother, my father, my other sisters are also tasked to do some coming back. Theirs take longer, and that’s what makes things lonelier.
Summer (Philippine summer, i.e. March-May) of this year has rather been extra special. That’s because aside from being able to come back home again, my mother and sisters also came home after two years. Yes, two years. It has been two years since I last saw my mother and other two sisters. And I can’t believe I was able to manage to get through the two years away from them. It has been really… I don’t even know how to describe it accurately. It’s beyond something. But for the lack of proper term, let’s say, happiness. I got to spend some priceless times with the whole of my family, minus my father. Things like this seem a little too precious. And because they are, they seem a little too fragile as well. And that’s why while it’s there, I tried my best to make the most of each of those things. It won’t be long till they’d be separated from me again. And alas, now, they are. I’ve come back to Manila, away from my sisters, and those at home, and my mother and one sister flew back to Middle East.
It really is lonely. But I won’t say it’s painful. It’s not like saying goodbye. It’s just separation for a while, but you know one day, you’ll come flying back to one another. Well, it’s more of, hoping and praying that one day, you’ll be able to come flying back together. We really can’t be sure of what might happen later, or tomorrow, what more in months? Years? But if praying keeps me going, I’ll never stop doing it.
In the time that I’ve been with them, I’ve made lots and lots of memories. It was, after all, time for me to accumulate things as much as I can. But accumulating memories is a double-edged sword. While it’s comforting and happy to remember them, they will also never fail to induce that pang in your heart because they are no longer there. They are just… memories. But one thing that I comfort myself with is that, at least I have them. It is a reminder that once in my life, those memories used to be actual happenings, and one day… one day, I might also be able to experience them again. Maybe not exactly the same, but at least with the same people. One day. InshaAllah.
Okay, enough of this. It is now time again for me to press my forward button. Though it’s bittersweet to look back, I should now look forward, as I used to. Life has to go on. Though I know that we move forward separately, at least we all are. At least not one of us should be left stuck in one place, and that one day, we might meet again, in our continued moving forward.
Time both heals and pains me. That’s why I am still thankful for it. And I’ll always, always want to move forward with it. It’s lonely now. But I know, I will never ever be alone. I never have been, and I know, will never be. I have God who is my constant comfort and support, who never fails to bring me solace whenever I come crawling for His help, with everything that’s happening to me. And I have my friends who make me happy as well. Friends who in my absence from home give me an alternate place where I could feel the belongingness. And there’s also life to keep me both distracted and focused. :p
It’s now time for me to prepare myself for whatever I might face tomorrow. To those people, I really, really, really love and treasure you. So much. Until the next time I see them, I’ll try to live my life according to how I see I should live it, and continue looking forward to be able to sprout some wings, and looking back to keep my roots. But I also won’t forget to cherish whatever that’s happening to me in the present.
Rewind. Play. Forward. Play. Pause? 
