english,
Literary: Homesick
White must be my favorite color—all my walls are painted white, most of my dresses are color white, and my bedsheets, too. My room is small, but I don’t mind because it’s very cozy. Most mornings, I draw the faces of my friends in my sketchbook. There’s Ate Shelby who always drops by to check on me and to listen to my stories, Kuya Reymart who always has food for me, Ate Sharon who helps me clean up my mess, and little Kelsey who sleeps next door. On afternoons, I lie in bed while watching whatever T.V. show catches my interest, which most of the time, is just Spongebob Squarepants. In the evenings, Mama, Papa, my Kuya, and I spend time together, either watching movies, telling stories, or singing songs while Kuya plays the guitar.
I really like my home. It has everything I need.
Sometimes, I go on vacation for a few weeks. Mama always holds my hand when we’re in the car. Papa drives. Kuya sits in the passenger seat. He always lets me pick the song for our road trip even though I pick the same song every time. When we arrive at our destination, Kuya sets up his camera, and the four of us take a picture in the garden in front of the bright yellow bungalow. Once the flash goes off, I run straight through the door and enter a world with vibrant orange walls. I immediately head to the small table near the shoe rack to say hi to Sammy the turtle, who most of the time just dozes off on his little rock of an island. My family and I all go to the kitchen to whip up whatever meal is somehow edible, which in my dictionary, means anything that does not include broccoli. After eating, we usually project and watch movies on the wall, play board games, or have nighttime picnics so that we can gaze at the stars. One time, we even brought a tent to the garden and roasted marshmallows over a small fire. Kuya caught a firefly that night and put it into my palms. I was afraid that I would crush it because it was so fragile, or that I might cause its light to burn out, so I spread my fingers wide for it to fly freely again. Kuya said that he loved fireflies because they were so beautiful and that even though they were so tiny, their light was a treasure. “Just like you,” he told me as he swept me off my feet and spun me around with his hands carrying me by the underarms. I giggled, filled with delight, and started tickling him once he set me down.
Our family vacations are nice, but sometimes, the colored walls make my head spin, and the thick air hurts my chest. I don’t tell anyone that I’m missing my room because my family always looks so happy when we are here, but it usually doesn’t take long before we need to leave the bungalow. Once I start coughing and find it hard to breathe, we all pack up our things and leave. Most times, I fall asleep on the trip and wake up to the white walls of my room. Papa talks to his good friend, Tito Karl, who like me, must like the color white a lot because he always wears his white coat. Kuya drinks coffee while typing into his laptop on the table in the corner. Mama sits by my bed, holding my hand, with silent tears rolling down her face. I always smile at her and tell her that it’s okay. I’m home and I’m safe so she shouldn’t worry.
“Thank you, Doc,” Papa says when Tito Karl is about to leave the room. Tito Karl always smiles at me before closing the door. I’m happy that he always talks calmly with Papa until Papa’s wrinkles are smoothened out.
I look at my bedside table to check the date on my calendar. I see the red mark encircling the 27th of November, which is only a week from now. I am quite sad that after that date, I might not be able to go on vacation for a long time, but at least my family can still drop by to be with me in my home. I’ll also get to spend more time with Ate Shelby, and maybe even get to play with little Kelsey after we get our injections in a few days.
There’s still so much I can do—I think about the things that I will draw in my sketchbook tomorrow and about telling Kuya Reymart what meals I cooked during my vacation. I look at my papa, my mama, and my kuya, and then I look at the walls of white. I sigh in contentment and my eyelids slowly droop. Amidst the steady murmur of the ventilator that, through a tube and mask, brings air into my nose and mouth, I hear a faint whisper of “Get some rest, honey. Are you feeling better?” I nod and sleepily mumble, “There’s no place like home.” I fall asleep with a soft kiss lingering on my forehead.
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