It was Saturday, 7:15 in the evening here at the West Hartford, a suburb in Connecticut where I pursue my Degree in Fine Arts. It’s a usual thing that I ought to imagine the customary happenings in the Philippines when I know that it’s Sunday in the morning there. The busy markets, stereos in loud mode, where everyone in the household prepares foodies to accompany an indoor or outdoor activity– strong family ties that goes on from the grandparents to their grandchildren.
Nostalgia strikes at me at this typical Saturday night. It was two long years and I’ll never unlearn to miss the bonding at home. I tucked into bed early without minding taking off my shoes. I was an hour ago facing teenage aspirants and giving them workshops about art– a leisure pursuit that I sincerely enjoy and a source of income too. Unlike my colleagues that are used to live a life in the lap of luxury, I am here risking my own world to offer a good life for my family. As a scholarship grantee, I took it as my best shot to succeed in my chosen course.