About home

I've finally finished the two brochures for Silay City, the ones I was supposed to do while I was in Negros. J contacted me again after the nth time of letting me go, after he sent me home(again). He said he couldn't work with anyone else. I gave him my word years ago and I am bound to it. I have gone from disappointment to disappointment and this time I hate to say it, but I think I did all I could to make things work between me and the people (unfortunately) involved in my little hiccup of a life.
I listen to "The Anchor Song" and it breaks me, I am pulverized with this line - this is my home. Yesterday, I told a friend I had none. Now, I have a "to do list" basically for getting my life back. Back from where I've willingly deposited it to, from where it was stolen from, and from wherever I've unknowingly spent it on. I would like to breathe new air now, I want to try to take in Cebu again, forgive this city for its smallness and forget its familiarity. Gently, I shall take my mother's fingers from my neck and I will rest in the comfort of things that can only be ideas and nothing more. I will slip quietly out of the noise, find a spot at a cemetery and sit on the tombstone of all my troubles. I will call upon my ancestors and seek advice from my great great grandfather, the drifter who left his homeland and went on an adventure to find himself a home along the peaceful coasts of Leyte.
I want to start looking for my own place-alone like he did, and find a home for my tired old body. Hopefully, I'll find a place for my bones and my vomit too.