How long has it been since the last time I packed my bags and flew to another place? How long has it been since I bid goodbye to my mother who keeps reminding me to stay safe and to my father who texts me "kamusta nak?" even if I haven't boarded my plane yet? I traced back the months and my count reached to three.
Three months have passed. I shook my head and sighed.
Like a lover reminiscing her past great love, memories of this summer came rushing in again. I remember it very clearly — the waves crashing on the shore; the genuine laughs after having one too many glasses of rum; my skin blanketed by warm summer heat; and the glorious sunsets. My mind is filled with countless things I can do to experience this again.
I long for the feeling of excitement knowing that in a few hours, I will be experiencing a new place. The joy of being fully present in the moment. The overwhelming feeling of gratitude after seeing the sky do its daily light show at five in the afternoon or setting foot on a gorgeous island for the very first time. I long to feel my heart beat fast and the wind in my hair while biking through a quiet road with coconut trees towering over me.
I tried to look for that feeling here but I am unsuccessful. Staying with the familiar can be good for the soul, yes. But stay too long and it will cage you.
The wait isn't over yet, but there's always an end. And it's in sight. For now, hold on to these memories, self.