Missing Home

The humid air welcomes me,

as I stepped outside of the airport.

Welcome to Manila!

Memories etched on stones.

Where a whole part of me has never left.

 

 

Laughter fills the air as conversations were made. 

The kitchen boasts an aroma of traditional dishes.
The table is filled with our favorite foods,
all ready for a feast.
All made with hands that have missed us all these years.

Outside, the orchids bloomed in mom's garden.

The beauty within these orchids,

so full of life and God's love.

 

I still recall the many times,

I stood in the rain and just let it pour on me.

It was like being baptized all over again.

Raindrops falling on me,

cleansing me inside and out.

My fears washed away,

a renewal of my own self.

The house stood still from the outside.

Same as it was when we first moved in 1994.

It rattles my brain with memories of my childhood.

Running around the garden, until I fell flat on my face.

Falling from the stairs for they were steep.

The living room where mom and her sisters would gather every weekend.

The weekends filled with music and karaoke,

where I worked on developing the gift of singing

with the presence of my aunts.
The same place where I would sleep at times,

for the marbled floors cooled my body during the night.

In the end, the last place I recall of the interiors,

before bidding good bye when going back to our lives abroad.