I'll Be Back

21

Aiah

As soon as I stepped foot in the Philippines, a wave of anxiety washed over me, like a tidal wave of memories crashing down, each one heavier and more painful than the last. The familiar sights and sounds of Manila felt like ghosts from my past, haunting me with every step I took. My heart raced, and my mind spiraled with thoughts of what lay ahead.

I needed to buy something special for the caretakers of the hacienda and for my cousins, hoping that these tokens of appreciation might ease some of the tension I felt.

As we navigated through the  mall, the scent of food wafting through the air, I couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that loomed over me.

My mother, ever practical, was busy comparing prices and selecting items. "Dapat may pasalubong tayo sa kanila lahat" she said, her tone matter-of-fact.

The noise, the heat, the overwhelming flood of emotions—it was all too much. But I had to push through.

We moved from store to store, picking out local delicacies. We already had much since we bought stuff in america too, so I don't know why my mom thinks everything isn't enough. Praning yarn?

Each purchase was a small distraction, a brief rest from the tsunami of anxiety inside me. As we continued our shopping, I found myself thinking about the hacienda, the caretakers who had been like family to me, and the cousins who were eager to see me after so many years.

When we got out of the mall, I immediately saw my relatives waiting for us in the car, their faces lighting up with enthusiasm as soon as they spotted me. They waved energetically, and I could see the excitement in their eyes even from a distance.

"Ate Aiks! Na-miss kita! Kamusta na?" my cousin Ali called out, her voice bubbling with excitement.

"I'm doing good naman" I responded, giving her a warm smile that I hoped conveyed just how much I had missed them too.

As we approached the car, my auntie pointed to my sleeping daughter in the stroller, curiosity evident in her eyes. "Sino yan?" she asked, clearly puzzled.

"Apo ko" my mom answered proudly, her voice filled with a grandmother's pride.

The revelation left them stunned, their expressions shifting from curiosity to shock as they processed the news. They never got the news that I had gotten pregnant, so their surprise was expected.

"May asawa ka na pala, 'teh?" Ali asked innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"No. It's a long story, guys. Chika ko nalang sainyo on the way." I said as I carefully settled my daughter in the car, preparing for the long journey ahead.

As we started the eight-hour drive to Baguio, the car buzzed with conversation, the voices blending into a comforting hum. I recounted the twists and turns of my life over the past few years, and I was relieved and grateful that they listened without judgment, offering nothing but understanding.

It felt good to finally share my story, and for a while, the car was filled with laughter and heartfelt exchanges, making the hours fly by. Eventually, fatigue set in, and one by one, we all drifted off to sleep, leaving only the driver awake to guide us safely through the night.

As we approached the outskirts of Baguio, the air grew cooler, and the familiar scent of pine trees filled the car. The city lights of Baguio twinkled in the distance, promising a temporary refuge from the turmoil I had left behind. I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and apprehension.