Saying goodbye to Baguio is never easy for me, not even on the coldest nights and I’m longing for the warmth of my own bed.
Baguio is metropolitan and provincial at the same time; cold in weather but warm in spirit. Session Road teems with activity through midnight, but the residential streets sleep peacefully. Shopkeepers smile at you when you walk in. Taxi drivers give you exact change.
My younger son has been living here for the past year and a half, with two and a half more to go as he finishes college. He says he hates the mountain weather, he who was born on a small island in the Visayas. But I’m willing to bet he misses his family more.
I’ve entertained the thought of finding a job in Baguio, just so I can be with him for the next couple of years. At least if I could do that I can make sure he eats properly, and cleans his room at least once a month.
But then there’s my little girl who would miss me, even if she is her Ama’s girl, and even if we all has lived such transient lives before there would come a time when we would have to put down roots to grow.
I just wish we were sure that Manila is the place to do that
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