I was going over old family pictures last night, and started feeling homesick. I get my American citizenship this year (will be applying for it in October). Sure, I'm happy, but it feels weird in a way.
I love the Philippines, but at the same time I see myself as very lucky to have been able to get out as well. Mixed feelings, very mixed feelings.
The last two lines from my story are from Jose Rizal's "Mi Ultimo Adios" (My Last Farewell), the Spanish and English version of the first line. I felt that I needed to dedicate a story to my home, to my cousins who were my first friends (and who have seen me cry way too much), and my two brothers.
*Picture was taken from http://traveljapanblog.com/ashland/tag/cemetery/page/2/
09/27/2013 (Friday)- Home to My Heart
There’s a picture hanging just by the door, one you can’t help seeing just before leaving the house for work. An old sepia picture: three brothers climbing a guava tree, their cousins climbing the neighboring one.
A picture steeped in happy memories. A picture carrying the scents of guava, grass, rice paddies, and of home.
A place thousands of miles removed from the picture.
A place forever etched fondly in memory.
A place where my heart belongs.
A place I call home.
I swallow the longing, the sickness of displacement, and open the door.
¡Adios, Patria adorada…
Farewell, dear Fatherland…