After years of whining, my long suffering husband finally decided to give in and rent a place for us to nest on. Our recent transfer explains my long absence from the blogosphere.
For once, it felt great to be severed from my online haunts. Finally, I am the mistress of my own kingdom although the color of this kingdom gives me the crossed feeling of experiencing Dora’s vibrant Latin roots and being inside Barney’s belly in the middle of an indigestion. The mustard walls seem both uplifting and maddening. No vomit inducing technique however will ever force me to exit Barney’s belly. I’ll stay here for as long as it takes to get my own place with the right colors.
I’m supposed to be flipping with glee and giving Barney an even more severe tummy ache but as with everything else, there’s always a price to pay. Aside from the numerous multi-legged pests that show up with little warning in the middle of the night with the seeming intent of killing me by surprise, I find myself missing part of the reason I left my home of six years.
I had thought that what I wanted was to be away from the noise and perpetual happiness that exemplify THE Filipino, but seeing my toddler in the earliest case of inconsolable depression I had ever seen and my husband nearly in tears broke my heart to little bits. The worst part is that whatever they have seems contagious. When once I was happiest on my own, I find myself missing the endless pork feasts, drink fests, chatter sprees and karaoke marathons not to mention the mountains of plates that have to be washed afterwards. After six years, I am finally becoming Filipino, I think.
I wonder if moving into Barney’s belly has been for the best.