I’m back, teetering between timezones and realities. I woke up this morning, thinking, hoping, it was a decent hour, but no. It was 4am and I was wide awake.
I sat up in bed and read my laptop like a book pressed up against my chest. I imagined what my family might be doing in the Philippines. Mom is eating dinner. Nanette is washing the dishes. Grandma is saying a prayer.
My time spent abroad was filled with so much love and adventure. Some sadness, too. I came home with a renewed sense of gratitude for everything I have. Not everyone is as lucky as we are, you know–not even half as lucky.
While there, I kept wanting to write and photograph and sketch everything all at once. “Make the most of this moment,” I kept thinking. “You will never get it back.” But I got tired of watching everything with such hard stares.
Now that I’m back, I want to get every last memory down on paper, fold the pages up and slip them inside a shoebox that I will have forever. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I should. I just know that part of me misses it already and another part of me is so glad to be home.