Leaving the Province

Tonight I'll once again be boarding the bus, clad in my favorite black-and-green-striped sweater, snugly embracing my travel pillow, and be zooming my way back to the busy Metro.

Time indeed fleets so fast, that I haven't even fully savoured the feeling of staying in the province.

Aside from the unplanned meet-up with friends, the books that I have finished reading, and the sumptuous meals that have tickled my palate, there's still be bevy of things that could be done here in Santiago. I haven't visited the market place yet, or gone to my former school. I haven't still met up with all of my old friends, who are scheduling for a gathering or two here and there. I even haven't tried to stay up late at night, and have my nocturnal and long phonecalls with pals, or even with my ex, Katrina. At any rate, I should have been to our farm, but even this I haven't succeeded on doing.

If only not for the organizational matters that I should attend to, in preparation for the organization's block handling come first semester, I would rather opt to stay here and continually enjoy what I call my provincial pleasures and privileges: long, unhindered sleep, free meriendas and other tripping, and cable TV, among others. But since I would like to think that I surely am a conscientious, newly-elected officer (Membership Committee Head) of my organization--UP Ugnayan ng Manunulat--I need to comply--despite some objections, at some time-- with all the schedules that the majority of the group has set beforehand.

So I'll be leaving the province tonight, with a welter of emotions rambling in my mind. At this point, thinking that the best and most possible time to be back home is after the first semester (This, of course, is subjected to change, since I am not in control of the forces of Nature) gives me, once again, that chill along my spine, the same feeling that I felt when I boarded off the bus as I arrived here last week. I am unsure of what to feel, really; if whether I should be happy to go back to my contradicting life (humdrum but complicated, elated but bored) in Manila, or if I should be melancholic of leaving--albeit temporarily--the province, along with my closest relatives.

As I was engaged in a conversation a while ago with Ate Angie, our trustworthy secretary for around eight years, I couldn't help but be wax nostalgic about my childhood. While wolfing down a bag of pan de sal, the image of a boy who already weighed 85 kilos in the age of 15 struck me. Looming in front of my imagination was an overblown, sweaty, and grouchy lad whose only enjoyments in life were to eat, watch TV, and read. As this image thundered in my mind, I run fast up the staircases, headed towards my room, opened my old cabinet--which then was reeking of a yeasty odor--and fumbled through my high school pantaloons, only to remember that in my soft and tender years as a boy, my waistline was as big--yes, 36 inches!--as my father's.

To my horror, I immediately turned to the nearest mirror and examined my recent self. And I was relived. There were no threats of going back to my corpulent shape, as far as my honest observation was concerned. Silently, as sweat started to drip along my back, I mumbled to myself, I'll never ever return to being obese.

While this stream of memories was flowing in me, I remember how this city and its people stood witness to my transformation. And every time I go back to this place and have the chance to get together with all the familiar people who have seen the changes in my life again, I become ecstatic, to some degree. I remember the struggles that I needed to grapple with--sacrificing many kinds of delicious foods; exiting from class early just to exercise at home; stay at home on weekends, to voluntarily do the cleaning, as an additional exercise, rather than to hang-out with friends, etc.--just to be in my tiptop shape.

Certainly, these happenings are now part of my memory of the province. It was hard in the beginning, but now as I look back as the man who has gained some experiences from the intricacies of the bigger city, it dawns on me that everything was a satisfactory achievement for my part; something unforgettable, indeed.

Tomorrow morning I'll once again be facing the pandemonium of Metropolitan streets. I'll once again be stalked by the leering eyes of MMDA Chairman Bayani Fernando and his ubiquitous promise of Metro Gwapo. I'll once again be haggling with life just to be on the nick of time for every meeting with members of the organization. I'll once again be hanging by a thread, whenever a forthcoming financial drought is crawling its way on the horizon. I'll once again be subjected to sleepless nights because of the proverbial burning of the midnight oil.

In the meantime, I'll be leaving the laxness of the province, to be back to the hassles of the city.

I will return, nonetheless. Promise, I will.