I’m back in New York and feeling a tad bit nostalgic about the home I just left again. Manila for three weeks is never enough. Manila for any stretch of time just doesn’t sate the thirst to be back where I grew up — amongst the family who nurtured me through the years, my family here in the big apple notwithstanding. There are just choices that stick with you and remind you about what you gave up in exchange for your gains.
No regrets. It’s just that leaving Manila is always bittersweet.
I arrived at night and saw my first daylight this Friday. I looked up at the skies when I stepped out to grab some groceries and saw this picture of a blue sky. The trees are now bare, ready to receive the onslaught of the cold. The cold wind greeted me with a sharp kiss to the cheek. I’m home again, indeed.
I tell myself I made a lot of strides this homecoming even if it seemed everything was laid back and slow. I got to spend a lot of time with the people who really mattered. I may not have left the confines of Metro Manila but I saw more of it than the previous visits home. I saw less people but got to see the people I really wanted to spend time with. So forget that I didn’t even step into the hallways of Megamall, or that I didn’t get to go to Quiapo or Divisoria this time — I felt like I had accomplished as much if not more than previous visits when I did.