Home is Where You Hang Your Heart

If you want to know me (really, REALLY know me), you must step inside my home in Aslum. Maybe then you will be able to understand why I yearn for home more often than what is probably normal. A place surrounded by water, it stands between the Aslum River and the big blue sea.

It is a place where meals are simple yet extraordinary, usually bought from or given to my parents by local fisher folks.

It is a place where I can be myself, with no one judging me for being too free-spirited. It is the sanctuary where I hang my heart- on my sleeve, on the walls, all around. I breathe more easily here, become more alive.

If you look around closely, you will see things that are not perfect but are beautiful in their imperfection– shells and driftwood discarded by the sea, a chair swept away by the great Typhoon Frank and has somehow ended up in our backyard, tables and chairs made of vines, and windows with cloudy, rusty panes.

Surrounded by the bounties of nature and my loving family, I become more appreciative of the gifts I receive. Here, all I ever want to do is sleep and eat and laugh and be still.