I constantly think of home, a place where mom and dad patiently endured my childish ways, where little Nonoy and chubby Neneng used to play come-and-get-me.  A place where rivers run deep under the shade of an old acacia tree, where rice fields are green and where love knows no end.

            The last time I stayed home for a long time was during Christmas vacation.  Memories of those days when I had to wake up on early mornings to catch up the rising sun at a mountaintop a hundred meters away or so across home and to joyfully scribble down notes of how splendid the morning was, always keep on coming back, like it has already fixed something so valuable in me I can never get away from it.

             It is a different world I am into right now.  I live in an apartment where the sound of a drudging alarm clock signals the start of another day rather than Dads fighting cock crowing in our backyard.

             I often think of home.  Maybe because I find myself alone when I am sick.  There is no healing touch of a mother to ease a day of stress and anxiety, unlike the good old days.  There are no more weekends when Dad and I would have a joyride around town, roaming every nook and cranny like no father and son have done.

             I have been all by myself for more than five years already.  Most of those years were spent in a university dormitory where I had my first taste of freedom as a boy who never tried to be away from his parents custody.  It was the place where I learned most of the good values in life  - like to be honest with myself, to work independently, know true friends and treasure them, and above all, know Someone stronger than anyone.     

             Most of the dormitory occupants were students like me, whose ideas of fun and weekend gimmick was not a drinking session with friends but rather going through the pages of our notes for a nightly subject review.

             Being alone in a new place for the first time taught me not only to beat the sunrise but also to manage time.  An early shower, a sip of my favorite hot noodle soup and a jog around the hall became part of my daily routine.  I had to make sure necessary things were already in my bag, or else, I'll suffer the consequence of a half-kilometer run from the school to the dorm.  Deprived of an extra amount of my allowance for movies, I usually went straight home after class, enjoying a book or two.      

             Four of us freshmen were packed in one room.  We were like little birds learning to fly on our own.  We wondered about our future with apprehensions.  Our room became popular in our hall, as we have named it CAGE for Carmelo, Albert, Gilbert, Eric.  The friendship was made even closer with our evening rosary, the only time when we would gather around Child Jesus image on our altar. 

            The bond stayed strong for almost three years, only to weaken when Carmelo had to stop schooling for family problems.  Albert had to pursue another course in Manila and Gilbert had to transfer to another room.  Left with a new set of roommates, I felt alone.  Because my roommates were many years younger than I was and I could not easily jam with them. Or maybe I just missed the camaraderie CAGE had then.

             It has been four years since that last dinner we had.  Now, I am living with people who also have jobs to attend to Mondays through Saturdays.  We have more time for work than for a wholesome chitchat.  But Sunday is a big day for us when we can gather around the TV and munch our favorite potato chips, crack jokes and, of course together clean the place we call home.  We are like brothers and sisters, so to speak.

             Rupert, the oldest among us, is our Tatay.  There is also Mommy Fritz whom we can never ignore as she goes philosophical about life.  Joan and Alroy complete the list, both young professionals who at their age still like sweet little children, needing a little pampering sometimes.

             The once Nonoy, who was full of adventurous play and daydream, has now matured physically, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually.  Some of my ways of life were already abandoned for good.  Now, I learned not only to see and accept things as they are, but value them the most.  With me, are friends who never fail to share a hand and give a little lift.  Friends, who help me make things work just like the way at home. 

             Home, the place maybe miles away, but I can always build another together with others anytime.  Now, wherever life will take me and whoever I will be with, never will I miss to share the zest and beauty out of the adventures of living away from home: share the smile, thanks and gestures of appreciation to those who are helping me build a life worthwhile.  

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