This rustic sunset. I always watch for this sitting on the ledge of our front porch. While making this piece I felt a lump in my throat. Oh how I miss this view, and the house I’m standing on watching it. The house was the fruit of our hard work. Memories then flood my brain. All are bittersweet and wonderful memories.
We were still newlyweds, renting a tiny pad just for the two of us. I remember the times we were busy with the paper works in getting the lot mortgage. We have not yet decided to build a house right away. Then I became with a child. Nine months is still enough time so we started building our dream home. It was just a simple, indigenous house just as long as we have enough room for our coming child to play around. We were very hands on, especially my husband who has to check and supervise the people working on it, on top of having a full time job. It was not easy, and more so building a house did not come cheap. Well to make it short, the universe conspired to make everything happen. I then gave birth and after a couple months we finally moved into our dream home.
That house witnessed a lot of ups, downs and in betweens in our family life. Our son blew his first birthday candle on that front porch with our loved ones. And his second, third, fourth and fifth birthday candles as well as his many developmental milestones. It was also where my husband and I got to know each other more; our petty quarrels and misunderstandings, as well as the lazy afternoons when we just lay cozily in our living room building our dreams and talking about anything under the sun. The house itself was our achievement; building it from scratch to becoming a place where we truly felt secure. The walls heard my son’s baby screams and my off-key singing of lullabies. The moments we spent together pulling weeds and sweeping the fallen Water Apple leaves from the garden. It was a natural exercise. The roof was even a sanctuary for birds evident with the white droppings they leave behind on our windows. There were a number of fruit bearing plants in our yard. I really miss just plucking lime fruits for my morning drink. The house saw many celebrations, holidays and gatherings with family and friends.
But it also saw how painful physical separation looks like. The house witnessed the tears and heartbreak when my husband left to work in another country. It saw how I would become the sole caretaker of the house, and the people living in it. I learned how to replace the drain pipe, fix ceiling fans, spend a whole day clearing the weeds, among all else. Being self-reliant is one thing positive from what seems like a negative situation. The house witnessed how I panicked when my son cut his bleeding forehead after bumping on our kitchen counter or when he has a high fever in the dead of the night without someone to call upon. It witnessed my frustrations, fears, as well as my high hopes and trying-to-be- strong moments. But all those came to pass; our family got reunited for good after our family visa got approved. I learned a lot from the three years of raising my son singlehandedly, with my husband’s and our families’ moral support.
Guess this is the point of my writing piece, I have found my inner place because of the physical place where I have slowly developed my character and resilience. Overall those were great memories I will never get tired of replaying in my mind. It was full of love, sacrifice, independence, and happiness, the plus outweighing the minus. Though we still own the house, we already moved to a new place where we are starting a new set of memories; an entirely different environment, climate and culture. It is something I have to devote another entry on.
My entry on this week’s Discover Challenge
Finding Your Place