Poetic Justice: That Homesick Feeling

It is hard to live away from the place you once call home, because there really is no place like home. It is an awful thing to miss the place where you once had your playground as a child and probably spent the first half of your lifetime, whether it was an easy one or a time lived with tough challenges. Simply put, being geographically displaced from your familiar habitat and being separated from familiar faces could be so crippling at times. I thought I could be totally immune from the feeling of being homesick after being away from home for a while now, but, the truth is, that feeling has a life of its own--fading but never dying, just lurking somewhere in the dark corners of my deepest emotions.

I must be really homesick, if I could describe that feeling with such colorful detail. Am I?

Right now, I'm thinking of fish--dried fish, soup made out of fish, raw fish cooked in vinegar, grilled fish, fried fish. Fish...everything! Gosh, I must be going crazy.

I'm picturing myself, sitting by the sea wall, watching the sun set while I happily gobble on some deep-fried sugar-coated plantains on a stick.

I'm immersing myself into that relaxing feeling of being in my room, surrounded by sense-calming scents, while my old lady masseuse skillfully but carefully soothe every aching muscle of my body amid the soft tranquil melody of nature's music.

Else, I'm getting lost into total nothingness, while I lay on the sand by the shore, listening to the waves as they caress the shoreline with such deep, haunting, playful, yearning to molest its every grainy strand while my eyes lazily gaze upon that lonely moon framed in the frail sadness of a star-less sky while a soft breeze tickles my worn and weary toes after a long day of chasing rainbows and butterflies.

My flip-flops, how can I not think of them? They could be so liberating...while they make those silly split-splat sound in harmonious symphony with the falling rain's every drop as it hits the ground on a stormy day while I graze my way through the muddy pathways that lead to the door of the place I call home.

And the noise, that familiar rhyme of chaos--children screaming, giggling and crying; neighbors yelling and fighting; tricycles and old cars roaring; the pigs moaning; the dogs barking; my mother nagging...what a delightful sound of life being lived!

Yes, I'm really homesick. There's a thousand vivid portraits playing in my head that remind me of home, sweet home.

But, nah, I'm not sad.

In the very corner of my eyes, I can see from a distance that perfect silhouette on that strikingly inviting tabletop...a cup of warm Milo, a plateful of steaming white rice, drizzled with my favorite sardines in tomato sauce, sprinkled with a little dash of salt...

...calling, begging, wanting for me to waste no time to savor its every glory in my ever insatiable palate...

...and really, when I'm done with it, the feeling is describably just as good as...

... being HOME AGAIN.