This is a chapter worth skipping as I am about to tread past blogging SOP and move back to how I once wrote online, back when nobody read my rambles and I was much more intense/intimate with life. It has been almost three years that I/we have been moving about and around Italy. Rome is treating us well, fairest weather, vibrant and crazy. It reminds me a little bit of another crazy capital – Manila, ten times more wacky where I last spent my days before I made this big move.
It has been several months now that I have been planning/anticipating our trip back to the Philippines. A year over after giving birth to our son now big enough to fly halfway across the planet, I’m more than excited to have him see and meet the big circle of friends and family back in the place I so dearly call home. Unfortunately we won’t be able to make the trip as a change of priorities and plans are set in motion.
Truth is, I never really thought I would be “living” my life in Italy. I didn’t realize this consequence of our marriage. Both of us being such nomads, I expected we would be moving about but I always knew my point of origin was still among these string of islands, the comfortable vicinity of sea and coconuts and laughter and friendship. I know this clearly now. Despite embracing and adopting this second “home”, I cannot lie. A part of me is anchored firmly in those shores.
I write to let go. This is my letter. So much of memory and nostalgia is holding me back from truly living and being here where I am. Come to think of it, the whole world is our home. A true nomad knows this. For this I can stop waiting for that distant trip and consider these moments, these times so ripe for building a life.