The majesty of its structure lingered in my thoughts. The big two-story house on top of the slope. It was located by the corner of the road. Massive windows open to the site of the bay down the opposite of a major highway. The view of the hill was further. An awesome scene I should say, the house haunted my memories with the nostalgia of my childhood.
Time flew so fast, once our family used to sail towards the white sandy part of the bay in a bamboo raft. We did enjoy a swim. Time was when lark hovered swiftly over the coconut trees by day. Fireflies lighted the mangroves at night. Those things fascinated me in childhood. They are all gone now. Soon I will leave the place too, how long I do not know.
If I can have my way, I would rather stay in the comfort and familiarity of my childhood hometown. I am a big girl now. I have responsibilities and obligations at hand. I need to do my role in this drama of survival or face failure in my lifetime.
What lies ahead is not certain but that house tells a story. The house was owned by my music teacher back in my primary years. The family migrated to the United States for a better life. I supposed by now, her children are all grown up and married with families of their own. That huge house says what the couple can now afford.
I asked, who lives in that house? There is nobody I was told. A caretaker simply comes in regularly to clean its interior. I do not believe so much about unseen creatures but different versions of weird phenomena the neighbours talk about. The house has been deserted and they say it is haunted. I come to think about my teacher. She must be a couple of decades over my age. I know it is none of my business but maybe her knees must be a little sore by now. I wonder, will that magnificent staircase be not too much for my mentor to take? Then again, she does not live in that house she built.
My cousin in Canada shared some of the good things that happened to some of our friends in that part of the world. She said a close friend invited her to their home one day. The friend showed off the huge screen and high-tech gadgets in each room of their home. Definitely nothing wrong with that, but the poor rich friend could hardly enjoy the sophistication of his abode. He works sixteen hours a day to raise the money to pay the loan. He hardly rests and badly needed some sleep. Our friend is too tired to switch any of the buttons of his entertainment set.
Once, I stared blankly at the passport on the dashboard of my car. My visa was ready. Soon I will go. Similarly, I am going out of the country for the money. I am a mother, tears rolled down my face. I called out to pray, oh Father in Heaven, I know nothing in this world is free. I am leaving the safety of my daughter for her future. If leading her astray is the bargain I must make I am not going anywhere.
I missed driving down that road. I missed the broom-broom of the engine as I slowed down my speed cruising down that slope. I am not blasting the music of the car radio if just to forget the stress. Now I am in some distant and foreign land.
Several times, I catch up with my own people. We tend to group together for camaraderie. In these socials, culture and identity are manifested. Sometimes vanity glaringly comes into play. We do work hard and with all our sincere efforts tend to build and display things for fame, honour and recognition. Yet if our vanity is consuming our freedom and peace the mathematics of it all would simply be an equation of nullity.
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