Wanderer
The journey home is the most difficult to take. I don’t recall a time since my puberty years that I’d ever stayed in one place longer than I needed to. In some ways, I lived a sheltered life, never venturing too far from the house or never really stepping out of my comfort zone until I was sent off to Baguio to experience the barriotic life. There—in what was considered a “small town” community, I learned to be my own person. I had to face the reality that I needed to depend on myself for the littlest things. I was taught to do chores which I mostly hated: laundry, cooking, cleaning my room, and taking care of the house pets. It was also during that time that I literally learned to live away from home with very few creature comforts often under inclement weather. I subjected my body and mind to conditions that would make a normal city kid crazy. Surprisingly, I loved that idea of discomfort and working hard for every inch of ground I covered, every meal that got cooked under t...