homesick

(source)

Flashback:

You step down from a trike and your pamangkins come rushing “Tito! Tito!”. O, how sweet is that even if they were actually after that package of siopaos or burgers that they have been nagging you about when you left that morning. Sometimes, arriving empty-handed you tell them, “oh, the baker was sick today and was not able to make siopao” and tell them anecdotes instead. Or pull some tricks or hunch your back for their rodeo ride.

You slouch on the sofa and sister calls out “dinner is ready” while Noli de Castro screeches “teeveeeeeeeee patrol!”. A steaming bowl of your favorite law-oy or sinigang. Or grilled fish with guso salad. Then a long chat over that matter that caught your and your siblings’ collective awareness or curiosity during the day. The laughs will be hard you’ll be reaching fast for a glass of water while choking on your food.

Majority wins on which program to watch on TV after, which all the time, will be the teleseryes. You wanted to get another TV but decides against it. And finally, you get to reconcile with Jhie’s shrieks over Coco Martin's dramatics amidst his lisps.

You lay in bed, the jalousies open while the chirps and flapping of the kulansyangs’ try to lull you to sleep. Or a few pages of Milan Kundera. Tomorrow will be a long day and you’ll beg high heavens that insomnia will not pop in tonight, more than you pray for peace on earth.

You look forward to weekends for catch-ups and rest. You do not worry about doing the laundry or the ironing since Jhie already took care of that. You are the king of the world despite that you reign over the basket to flea market and the kitchen on Sundays.

You caught the flu and Mamang rushes to the city with leaves that she will boil and forces you to gulp. That is so sweet despite how awful the concoction would taste most of the time.

You have a trip for a few days or weeks, and since Mamang protests against how you simply dump your stuff in the luggage, she volunteers to do the packing. Never mind that you will have to rush to the department store nearest to your hotel after discovering that she missed to put in some underwear.  

O, life is sweet. The benefit of family and community.

Fastforward:

You step down from a trike and your landlord greets you, “nagabin-an man ka?”. After a long day, you manage a smile for a reply. Silence and shadows envelope your unit. You unlock the door and turn the lights on. Stillness, the scent of solitude sprayed all over. You open the fridge, debate with yourself whether to re-heat last night’s left-over or not and decide it will be sandwich for tonight. Tomorrow will be cereals, then sardines and bread the following day. You sigh. Ugh.

You did not get a TV yet so you open your computer and play Winamp. Go online if you were able to load credits to your plug-in. But the prepaid connection can be very sloooooow you'll get dizzy to the circular motion of the loading icon on the address tab.

You lie in bed and the tuko beats your lullaby. Or an article in the newest issue of Reader’s Digest.

Saturdays will be laundry and office or laundry and sleep. Sundays will be church and ironing or church and sleep. If you lazed and chose the latter, then just squeeze in the ironing after taking a bath on Monday and the rest of the week.

You caught the flu and you call your nurse-sister for some medical advice and try not to play the doctor part, which you often do. You take a pill. 

You have a trip and you simply dump your stuff in the luggage. You will make sure you will put in some underwear this time. 

Such a drag. The price of independence.

Now I’m sick. And I want my old life back. I want to be tito and king once again.

I want to be home.

(Musings while finding hard time sleeping on the fourth day of nursing the flu and headache from sinusitis. Manang manghihilot did not show up. I know, this too, and the flu, shall pass. I shouldn't have called home and talked to the kids. But still, I just so enjoy this self-regulating, sovereign life that I will persist.)