So this is how it feels. This is how it feels when you lose someone you love so much. You feel numb, frozen. You can’t see or hear anything but you know it’s there, and after a while everything starts to sink into the deepest part of your being. Then your world starts to shake and you start crying as if you won’t ever stop, and just before you can even wipe the last drop of tear from your eyes, you find yourself crying again and again and again.
My name is Samara. I’m standing by the huge glass window of my room, staring at the peaceful view of my little hometown. I’m thinking about the things that I’ve done in my life, the things that I’ve gained, the things that I’ve lost. It’s been three years of traveling and working and finding answers to my unending questions. Finally, I’m home again.
Why do people always think of home during times of confusion, and loneliness, and failures, and loss? Is there something about home that wipes away all these? Is home enough to give comfort to a broken spirit and relief to a hurting soul? Perhaps yes, because I am feeling them now.
It’s four in the afternoon. I go downstairs to see if my two younger brothers are in the living room. Josh is twenty, James is twenty-two. We grew up together and we’ve been close since we were kids. When I reach downstairs, the living room is empty. I go straight to the kitchen and I smell the sweet aroma of milk and eggs. I know right away what Mom is doing.
Ang ulan ganinang hapon misamot pagbunok padulong sa tungang gabii. Ang tinabisak sa daw guang-guang nga mga lusok sa ulan maorag molusno sa bubongang kahoy ug kugon sa payag nga nag-umbaw sa tampi sa suba sa Sinuda. Ang kamaot sa panahon nakapabalaka ni Noebong, usa sa mga timawa nga amahan sa panimalay sa nagkapuo nga tribu sa mga Giyangan sa pag-utlan sa Dabaw ug Bukidnon.