Last Trip from Lifehomes to Pureza

So, graduating feels like this, huh?

Fifteen years ago, I marched into this toy-filled room with kids just my age jumping around. They were definitely enjoying the first day of class. On the other side of the room were kids crying, pleading for their mommies not to leave them behind. Obviously, their view of this new environment was entirely opposite to what the “jumping kids” had in mind.

Apart from the room’s description, I could not remember much of the details of my first day in kindergarten, so to make this post a little longer, I got up from the computer screen and asked my mom (who was currently cooking our lunch) how I was that day. Drawing from her sharp memory, she said that while the other kids from both extremes were making the room kind of chaotic, I was just there sitting quietly. I tried to remember what I was thinking at that particular moment, but I could not dig any deeper. Perhaps I was nervous or overwhelmed or shocked?

After that, I could not recall how many times I desperately hoped for those early morning days to be over. From the first time I wore a pair of school uniform, to the many kinds of armchairs I’ve sat on, to the many times I wrestled with my sleepy head, time sure is like a jet plane. First, you can see it flying above your head, and the next thing you know, it’s already out of your sight.

It was indeed.

My first day in kindergarten was pretty much the same as my first day in college. Though the difference was, I can now make it on my own from home to school, and the excitement or the “nervousness” I felt was not manifested by how I behaved, but with the length of my hair. I am guilty of having this naughty instinct of wanting to cut my hair shorter whenever something new is about to happen. The other difference is that students who were on the same page as I was had their own versions of “jumping” and “crying” too. Usually, you can see it through the way they dress up, the way they look around, and the way they talk much about high school. But some were just too quiet, you could barely predict what thoughts they had in mind. Thanks to my amateur observation.

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Now, after four years of doing finals and researches, after four years of trying different haircuts whenever a new semester is about to begin, finally I am near to closing the door of this long been walked alley of dream smiths.

Many times have I entered an empty classroom, killing time, and found myself thinking about what to do with my life after this. I realized that it is so funny how the thought of the future suddenly escapes you whenever you are getting nearer and nearer to the finish line. Like this desire to try skydiving. You are so looking forward to it, even saving money to afford it, but when the opportunity is already smiling in front of you, and the deep cloud filled sky shouting below you, for a split second there your mind entertained the thought of not jumping at all as if you’ve never looked forward for this chance your whole life.

That metaphor I used to be honest, is just hypothetical since I’ve never tried sky diving before (but I am so into trying it soon!), but knowing who I am, the percentage of that hypothesis to come to pass is 100%. And so that is what I am feeling right now.

I am not afraid.

I would say that that adjective is inappropriate. Rather, I am extremely delighted, extremely delighted that the enormity of it frightens me a bit. Not that kind of negative fright that we usually associate with danger or darkness or ghosts or aliens or whatever. It is that kind of fright that triggers a crazy childish giggle.

I always say that I view life as an adventure. It may sound so cliché, but I cannot think of a better description to express the way I perceive life and the things that are happening within it.

But then adventure has this strict process of coming and leaving, of arriving and departing, of beginning and ending. The need to proceed to the next itinerary and to explore the unexplored places should continue in order to keep the thrill. The need to keep moving forward is irrevocable. Adventure repels familiarity, which makes Change his twin brother. It just blows me away whenever I run through my mind the endless possibilities of life and the countless beautiful people that I could possibly meet along the way.

In the same way, this last trip from Lifehomes to Pureza is one of those places that I have already explored. True enough that a lot of things happened within its confines. True enough, I met a lot of beautiful people who were carrying beautiful stories within them.

I am going to miss everything.

I am going to miss the trees along Greenhills, that curve in Pinaglabanan, and that bump on the road as you turn to SM Sta. Mesa. I am going to miss the long hours of bus rides and how it made room for me to think and contemplate. I am going to miss saying “Manong Pureza po, estudyante” to the conductor whenever I pay my fare. In fact, I am going to miss pronouncing “Pureza”, the name itself that gives me this picture of a big, scary-looking sea creature.

An adventurer sure loves going from place to place, but it does not mean it is easy to leave everything behind just like that. Each place wasn’t perfect, but they have rare jewels that make them unique from the other places. Each of them molds a part of you that makes you a better adventurer.

Yes, sometime in the future I will pass by on this part of the journey again, though not with the same intentions anymore. But until then, all of this will be compiled in the closet of my senses and will only be pulled out again whenever something familiar hits the surface, like a sheer fabric of blissful nostalgia.

For now, the so-called “real world” awaits. It is time to jump another cliff, to conquer another mountain, and to do sky jumping all over again.