This House into a Home

Bags were packed, cabinets disassembled, drawers emptied; it was finally time to go home. In about a week, I would have successfully emptied my room at GCM and would officially be a nomad. Yesterday I went home, with the half of the egress done, with the drive home quite different than the others.
Different because when I return to GCM, it'll all be about packing what remains, and disposing what was left. I kept on recalling the friends who slept over, and yes, the guys I took home. The swerving cars, the poorly produced billboards and the vibrant sky seemed like the perfect backdrop for the nostalgia.
We reached the end of the superhighway just an hour from Trinoma. The road was calm, cars cruised along on their lanes, and roadlights shined like stars in the middle of dark fields. "Lights will lead you home," as Coldplay says. But what and where is my home, anyway?
My home is where the sky is picturesque but cables and posts frame the view,
Where broken things are left unfixed
Where beliefs are decorated by cobwebs
Where sex and intercourse always end up in wedlock
Is this house of ours in Nueva Ecija my home?
I say yes, flaws and all. He turns any house into a home.

5 thoughts on “This House into a Home

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