Home: Where the Heart is

Anyone who's ever been burned out by too much work, too much thinking about life and whatever the f*&k the future might bring will find it a tremendous relief to be back in their old hometown: be it to unwind, or even to find themselves again. It's a secret gift that life offers to all those weary souls whose lives have been battered by the unseen dark forces of the universe...the same forces that rust metal , rot apples,and crumble mountains. I just came back from a rather short but powerfully healing vacation to my hometown of Bacolod with the best crew I can ever travel with: my siblings, as well as a few acquaintances and close relatives who managed to tag along. It was an hour-long flight to Silay airport and another 2-hours roadtrip to where everything started: Brgy. Sicaba Cadiz City; a small, rustic old town filled with nipa huts and wooden houses and the smell of home-cooked meals over a wood fire. Amazingly, all the rains and bad weather of the past few days were nowhere in sight ( as my good friend Mike used to say, ' the weather is riding with the occasion', which is good omen). We arrived at our destination with our relatives on the doorstep of my grandparent's old house, ready to welcome their weary nephews and nieces who have come to be revitalized by the power that only the love of a close-knit family can give. Suffice it to say, the rest is history; though there were some moments of awkwardness brought about by a few bad apples (hey, they're freakin' everywhere, family or not), the fun and warmth pervaded the atmosphere up until it was time to go. And so we went home, tired and aching (and a bit hung over), but with a big smile in our hearts, a smile that hopefully will last until the next trip home. Now I sit on my work station, and I feel like shit. I just realized I'm beginning to f*%king hate Manila. Home is definitely where my heart is...I have left it there on purpose.