Addicted

What should I buy? Siopao? Donuts? Or cake? I confess. I am an addict. I am not really sure how it all started. All I know is that I needed it. I am so psyched about doing it that it has become a weekly ritual. It is my only pleasure – my true obsession. I don’t mind the hours, the pollution, the people – everything. All that matters is I go home and be with my family. That is my addiction – going to a place I call home. The very word of it gives me the ‘kiligs’. The mere thinking of them makes me miss them even more. So why do I travel for four hours, suffer back pains, and endure hunger just to see them? The simple answer is l-o-v-e. I love my family to the last molecule.

I arrive at home at about 3:30 pm. As I open our gates I shout and call on my mama. Then, I pay my respect to my parents. My father says: “My daughter, how are you?” I answer with a happy tone; “Fine and thank you sir.” Then we would start to laugh. I would then bring out my pasalubong for the week; then my kuya would show up. Mama would then ask if I already ate then she would tell that she cooked sinigang for me. As I reheat the sinigang, I switched on the TV and watch ‘Let’s Go’. Mama would then ask questions about school and everything else. Being a wreck after the whole trip, I couldn’t answer rightfully. Mama gets a little irritated and says: “masyado ka namang suplada” subsequently she decides to just sleep again. We are about to go mass at 5 pm. It is already 4:45 and mama is still on the bathroom. Papa calls on her. Mama answers; “Andiyan na. tara na. tara na si rin.” Then I butt in by saying; “Si Mama naman, madali ng madali eh asa banyo pa.” At about 5:20 we arrive at the church. We are just in time for the homily of the priest. While the priest reads his homily, mama starts again to ask me questions. Papa then pushes my leg down and says it’s improper to put one’s leg up during mass. As I feel the pangs and gnaws of my body due to the demands of the week; magical voices starts to fill the air. The choir started to sing. My spirit starts to awaken and liven up. Oh the calmness and serenity their voices bring. After the mass, papa goes home while mama and I go to the flea market. We go to market to buy some fruits and desserts for dinner. At this time, mama and I start to converse about the latest happenings. Afterwards, we have our dinner. We talk. We laugh. We watch TV. We bond. And if time permits, I give facial services, manicure and pedicure. This is my typical Saturday – simple yet meaningful. And my Sunday is left for all the paper works and projects that I have to rush in advance.

So what keeps me going home even for just a number of hours despite the hassles it brings? The answer is the love I feel whenever I am with them. I’ll tell you the truth. I am scared. I may look tough. I may look strong. I may look mature. But somewhere inside me is a kid - a kid who always gets excited whenever she sees her mama, papa and kuya. I almost lost my dad a year ago when he had a mild stroke, and I don’t want that to happen again. My parents aren’t getting any younger and I want as much as possible to be with them. My parents just retired recently from work and when they decided to retire in the province. I did not complain. It was fair enough for them. Words are not enough to explain why. If superman’s weakness is planet Krypton; mine is my family. So here I am sitting on the bus reminiscing my weekend, and I smile at having another chance to be with them. Now the question is what would I bring home for next weekend? Siopao? Donuts? Or cake?