I ran away from home once when I was a kid. I was probably 9 or 10... I made it all the way to the guardhouse of our village. And of course, the guard stopped me and called my yaya. I don't remember why I did that, but I remember I was so confident and hardly feared going away. Too much TV or movies, I think, because I romanticized being a street kid. After seeing Mga Basang Sisiw (I think, I forget the details), I've always wanted to go live in a kariton. Yah, even as a kid I was already strange.

The next time I "ran away" was in high school. It was really more of escaping home. I spent most of my waking hours in school, just hanging out till midnight with schoolmates.. And back then, we were content to just talk.. No booze, drugs or cigarettes. Those after-school get-togethers paved the way for lifelong friendships, and high school, all in all, is the one solid foundation for the person I've become today.

Right after college, I ran away from a heartbreak. I fell in love with a boy who back then was more in love with his game. Ironically, this boy has come back to my life professing undying love. But if it takes you three years to get over someone, I think when you're finally there, there's no going back.

As soon as I started working, I moved out and lived on my own. It was more out of necessity at first, until I began to to enjoy every bit of independence, and the challenge. I never wanted to go back home. I crossed the waters and ran away to a different island. And it's been 7 years since. I love my family but I guess even as I child, I always felt out of place. And I realized why during my personal leadership workshop. My parents were way too busy working, and I alienated myself so I couldn't feel the hurt of not being hugged enough. I know they love me to bits, and I am love them back, specially now that I realize how hard it must have been to raise six children! But all the toys and the comfortable life was not enough even for a child. At the end of the day, all I wanted from them was a kiss on the forehead and a tight embrace.

When I visited home this time, I felt even more out of place. It was not just because I had run away from all that. But this time, I felt that, it was their turn to run away from me. My parents have decided to sell our house, the house where I grew up and spent most of my life in. Because they have returned to the place where they grew up, retired from their fast-paced lives... The house was so empty. What used to feel so constricting for a family of eight, was now just all space. Only two rooms in the 6-bedroom house was occupied. That of my sister's and our househelp. My dad's office where he used to spend all his time in had nothing in it save for his desk and his swivel chair. The old library just full of old books, an encyclopedia set bought in the 80's and family pictures... We don't eat in the dining hall anymore. The bar is now full of memorabilia glasses instead of wines.. My sister and I now eat in the small dining area, and we spend most of our time in the entertainment area watching TV or singing karaoke. The garden which used to be full of flowers is now mostly bare. But the langka tree still stands tall, reminding me of times when we were regalled by scary stories by our lola (she told us a being lived there.. it's called "agta" in Cebuano but for the life of me, I could not recall what it's called in Tagalog).. And the basement where we used to hide when we played taguan is now full of party chairs and tables and other stuff we should probably already throw away, or at least, sell in a garage sale. And as I looked at this place where I ran away from, I felt a certain sadness, of feeling it will no longer be ours when I finally decide to stop running away and go back home...

Labels: boys, childhood, home