Way Back Home

The one hour went by so fast. Soon, we board the plane, and I settle into my window seat. I adore the view from up here, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over me as I looked at the clouds below. I take out my small, silver camera adorned with pink stripes to document the last memory of my adventurous journey. A smile of fulfillment spreads across my face.

I slept like a baby, soundly and calmly. My exhaustion was palpable, probably because I had not had enough rest the night before. With my ear pods in, listening to slow, sad music, seven hours flew by, and soon we are about to land. I feel a mixture of emotions as the plane descended; excitement and nervousness mingled together.

Stepping off the plane, chills run down my spine. I am still in disbelief that I am home. Finally, home. The air smells much fresher here, and the town seemed unchanged, as if time had stood still. I could smell the salty ocean from afar, a scent that evoked so many memories.

With my sunglasses on, casual clothes, a black hat, and a black mask, the breezy wind plays with my hair. Dragging my very big suitcase down the airport lobby, I feel like the main character in a movie, with everyone's attention on me. Unbothered and unflinching, I walk straight to the exit gate to find a cab.

Just after reaching the gate, I pause for a moment, reminiscing about the times I had left my country and this beautiful town. Frail tears rolls down my cheeks as I am suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice. "Sirah, Siraaaah…is that you?" I wonder who it could be. How could anyone recognize me after such a long time, especially with my sunglasses and mask on?

I turn my head to see a pretty lady with a hot tall guy. "Sirah its me Her,"…"remember me? Her from campus."

How could I forget Her, of all people? I recognize her instantly. Nothing has changed about her. She's still gorgeous, with her dark, long curly hair cascading down her shoulders and her perfect short, petite body. I can't help but chuckle subconsciously, probably to mask my awkwardness.

"Hi, Her. Of course, girl, how have you been? It's been so many years," taking down my glasses, I manage to respond, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I'm good, and you? I heard you went abroad. I can't believe I get to see you again. You still look the same." she responds with genuine excitement in her voice.

"Mmmh... yeah, but I'm back home now," I reply. "And you? You look like you're going somewhere with that suitcase."

"Um, actually, I just got married. I'm going on my honeymoon to Zanzibar. This is my husband," she introduces her tall companion.

My eyes widens with surprise and enthusiasm. "Oooh, congrats! Well, I won't be the reason the newlyweds miss their flight. Enjoy." We embrace each other warmly, and I can feel the years of separation melting away.

As she walks away, my hands were still trembling. Why did Her have to be the first person I meet upon my return? Memories of the past floods my mind. Her was my first love's sister, just a year ahead of me, and we had studied in the same high school and campus. We never really interacted at first, however we grew quite close around three years ago, during her last year in campus.

I remember the time when she didn't have a place to stay, and I had offered her to stay with me at my rented house. She stayed for three weeks. We shared the same bed, table, and plate. She confided in me, as I did in her. Even then, it was quite awkward to interact with her. Her presence always triggered something in me. Her attitude, conversation, and face were strikingly similar to her brother, the man who had once been my everything.

I was always on edge around her. It wasn't because she was mean; she was the nicest person ever, with a bit of an attitude. She would never let anyone look down on her or treat her badly. She could stand up for herself, unlike me, a people pleaser.

Seeing her again brought back all those memories and emotions. It is a reminder of the past, how much had changed and yet how much remained the same. Her presence was both comforting and unsettling, a paradox I couldn't quite resolve in my mind. The encounter left me feeling nostalgic and reflective as I continued my journey home. The familiar sights and sounds of the town welcomed me back, but my mind is still swirling with the memories and emotions that Her had stirred up.

She's now happily married. I'm happy for her. I shake my head to bring my thoughts back to reality. I put my glasses back on and take out my phone to order a Bolt cab. In a few minutes, it arrives. As expected of my people, very kind and hospitable, the cab driver greets me warmly and put my luggage in the trunk of the car.

"Where are you headed to, pretty lady?" he flirtatiously asks.

"The Lighthouse Garden," I respond, chuckling.

"Really? You just arrived, missing the sea view. Do you want company?" he persists.

"No, thank you." This time, I react more stoically, just in case he keeps it on.

Within half an hour, we arrive. I take my luggage and place it by the gate of the garden with the security, and then make my way into the green garden park.

Everything still feel, looks, and smells the same. I feel a bit tired, and I lazily stroll down the park. It's located beside the coral ocean. I can't help but remember all the memories this place held for me—memories of him and me.

I go straight to my, or rather our, secret location. Where we met often. Where we ate. Where we laughed and looked into each other's eyes.

Here I was, 25, still holding on to feelings I felt five years ago. I find the two undefined coral stones and sat one, bitterly smiling. I remember how he gave me a ring made out of grass. How little things could light me up. How he looked at me. The promises we made. The dreams we had. The number of kids we talked about.

A shadow slowly creeps in. My heart drops for a second. Was it him? I cannot be encountering another unexpected coincidence twice in one day. I can hear my heart beating. I hesitate to turn around.

"Hello young lady, mind buying an ice cream?" It was just a street vendor. Only after that did I turn around to face the man. I put my hand on my chest and take a big exhale.

Feeling embarrassed, I decide to buy a mango-flavored ice cream. I then sit for a few more minutes, admiring the view as I devoured my ice cream. The cool, sweet treat was a welcome distraction.

Once I finished, I return to the gate to fetch my bags and take a cab to a nearby fried chicken stop. I order a family bucket of chicken, wings, and fries, planning to bring takeout for my folks. I miss eating fried chicken with them, and I am sure they would enjoy it. Finally, I take the last cab—this time, really going home.

Maybe, all this time, I was kind of avoiding going home. Maybe I am a little bit nervous to finally stand face to face with my loved ones.

I arrive at the gate of our flat apartment, I am still covered with a mask and a hat. I take deep breaths as I take steps to the elevator. Floor number four. The elevator doors opens wide, and I find myself in front of our main door. I ring the bell, my heart pounding with anticipation and excitement.

As I wait, I think about all the times I had imagined this moment. The door slowly creaks open.