As I surf many of my classmates and friends blogs and web pages, I come to realized one thing: That no matter where we are, or what have we become – there is one, and only one place we truly call home.
No matter that it might be to some, just a patch work of a few huts hewn out of the jungle, or a barren rocky place in an almost un-hospitable land – but if it is where we have grown up in our formative years – then it is home.
For me and to many others, this place is Wao – really just a blip in the map, and truth to tell, very hard to find on Google Earth. But no matter.
It is our personal shangri-la in this world: no matter that some might have already written another chapter in the story of their lives in another place, no matter that they may have already built large and beautiful homes in another land – their children already adapted to that culture.
Funny, but though some have already established themselves as upright citizens of a foreign land, nay even corporate semi-denizens of their own right- but still their blogs oozes with longing for that magical place – the home of our childhood days – our true home.
Some of my friends (and classmates) has become nurses caring for people, engineers building structures for others to enjoy, or built a niche as recognized security experts in their own right (where before the only expertise they truly have is in tending to a water buffalo).
Even that some of my very dear friends have really specialized in that noblest and hardest of profession – the housewife – but still it is evident that we have all that special fondness of, a real palpable angst for our true home in our hearts: Wao.
Only now, does I truly understood my elders.
Speaking with pride and longing for their own home in Panay, or elsewhere. Of the many adventures, friendships, and happiness in that magical place they left behind – to be uprooted to another place as we are now, for the very same reason: economic necessity.
Many of them after many years even returned back to Panay, or elsewhere, to the land of their youth – unable to resist the deep longing in their hearts. But to me, this I cannot, as my home is different from theirs. I cannot imagine myself there, I have no roots there. My roots are firmly rooted here – this is where I belong.
“When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it wasn’t the old home you missed but your childhood” (Sam Ewing’s Quotes).