After months of postponing going to my hometown, I was finally able to make the trip last Sunday. As cliché as it may sound, there really is no place like home. Yes, Dorothy, that is correct. I dreaded the four-hour travel, so I brought my old but trusty i-Pod. The battery died on me after 1 hour so I switched to my phone, which thankfully is loaded with mp3s and is fully charged. The sound from a portable video game a co-passenger was playing, which made me think of buying playstation 3 for my brother someday, and from the TV show being shown in the bus notwithstanding, I was able to focus on my music while enjoying the familiar scenery. There’s nothing like a long trip home to give you time to reminisce and get all sentimental. Well, at least it always has such an effect on me. I may have another life now in another town, another city, but my old bed, no matter how shabby, will always be a little more comforting than anything else I can buy for myself these days. Call it roots, call it a complete sense of belongingness – that’s what will always bring me home despite the things I’d rather run away from. It’s only too bad I can’t stay longer. On my trip back to Manila, I was regarding the city streets and the familiar corners of the place I call my own now, and although I know I do not wish to be anywhere else, I still wonder sometimes if life had regarded me differently and gave me an entirely different path to follow. Would life have been better, or simpler, or maybe fuller? I may never know. I’m never one to make room for regrets anyway.
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