Home with no corners

4:09 p.m. Almost time for us to dismiss, but not quite there yet. Having basic calculus as a last subject in the afternoon makes a STEM student like me more excited to leave school. The anticipation grows more whenever I think of the way home.

I looked over to the light of my seatmate’s phone, hoping that the time would move faster. “Six minutes pa,” my seatmate informed me. I took a breath as I relaxed in my seat. Completely aware of my lazy position, still, I actively participated in class.

From time to time, I would stare at our classroom window, seeing a glimpse of my barangay’s roofs. Accompanied by the light rays of the sun that peeked into our classroom. The sound of the neighborhood children playing, a few shouts here and there, and stray dogs barking. A chaotic background for an ongoing class but it reminded me that home was close, and soon I will be there once class was over.

Closing my eyes for a bit, I imagined where I would go after class.

My friends and I would stay in our room, which looked no different from the other classrooms, for a bit. Eventually, some would decide that their stomachs needed food. We would take a quick walk on the sidewalk in front of our municipality’s parish before arriving at a crowded avenue filled with food stalls. While eating, we would make contact with a few of our acquaintances.

The whole scenario has become a neverending story to tell but somehow it comforts me even if I condemn repetitive systems and feel remorse about living the same way every day. Inside me is an old yearning of a quiet, shy, and friendless elementary student that has made me close my eyes to my pet peeves.

You see, years ago, home was quite different for me. I grew up in the city, secluded in my academics, and heading home was my number one agenda after class. See where the grudge of having a “repetitive lifestyle” comes from?

No hanging out with friends or chatting on the way to a food spot, and no eating street foods after classes. Imagine yourself in my shoes, I guess you would feel a bit lonely yourself, too.

I had grown independent in this way. I only had myself to rely on and I never really immersed in various types of people because I only thought of them as ephemeral. In danger of speedy inexistence. They would come and they would go. They would not stay like how we stay in our homes. They would not find peace in us, just like we do in our homes. They would not feel comfortable and safe like we do in our homes. They would not fit in our lives, just like we do in our homes.

So when I moved to my parents’ hometown at 11 years old, I needed to adjust. This rubble of a barangay, the frenzy of a community, obnoxious personalities of hundreds of people surrounding my home were suddenly onto me.

It led me into thinking that if I wanted to call this place home, I had to stop generalizing. The adjustment was difficult, considering I had no idea how humans usually perceive other humans. As time went on, I was introduced to a plethora of them. Some made me stay away from them and some made me stay with them.

I learned how to seek home in other people.

I learned how to stay, find peace, feel comfort and safety, and even fit in with others’ lives. Just like how I do in our home. I scratched the idea of people being ephemeral and learned the lesson of leaving and staying. It seems kind of an obvious idea for us to look for the people we get along with, but seeking a home, a shelter, in someone is different. Especially for me who had only just recently gone outside her bubble.

So when I stay in my room for a bit after class, I do not think about the place. Instead, I feel the presence of my company. When we walk the stubby sidewalk toward our food spot, I do not think about the place. Instead, I think about the small chats we make. When we eat our favorite street foods, I do not think about the food. Instead, I think about their thoughtfulness to share and pay attention to others.

Home is not just a place. It is the way we feel when others embrace us in their arms. The way they accompany us in our day-to-day lives. The way they look for ways to keep us happy and content.

As I opened my eyes to reveal myself actually napping in class, I smiled at the realization I just made. Home may be in our barangay but home is also around me. Sometimes with a roof, most of the time with corners, but this home of mine has arms.

Janica Grace Samson, 16, is a student leader and aspiring marine biologist.