Unstable Planes

There are a lot of things that I am missing these days. I am missing the cool breeze of the country side caressing my face each morning I wake up. I am missing the fresh fruits and vegetables personally hand picked from the backyard garden and orchard. Though my system has adjusted with the Metropolis environs, my body is still yearning for the good old days where I can go hill-hiking and go swimming on the cool waters of the river snaking through my hometown. The beach is just a couple of minutes drive from home if wanted to feel the salty breeze of the sea-side. Add to that the option of a white or black- sand beach to your liking.

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I’m no sentimental but I can’t help wondering how the old acacia tree’s trunk where we etched our names looks like now? Does it still bear the names of individuals who dreamt of being remembered, always? Its trunk chronicles the love story of faceless couples, the frustrations, and for the others simply for no apparent reasons.

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I am missing the old crowd where I belong. Childhood friends. Neighbors? Well, we really don’t have neighbors back home. I am missing the pets back home. I am not even quite sure if they are still alive. It’s been almost three years since the last time I went back home, so I can’t help but wonder if how’s my old hometown doing.

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I am missing my old niche and the environs that surround it. I am missing the experience of simply staring at the endless-clear-blue sky while daydreaming of what could be. I am missing the chirping of the birds busy hopping on the branches of the guava tree adjacent to my bedroom. I am missing the bleating of the goats when they clamor to be let out to graze freely on the other side of the fence. I am missing so many things. Yet here I am, missing from all those things.