A House That Is A Home

We grow up believing that a home is a place where we were born, made of walls and beams. The four corners of the living room are our playground where we could hide and seek. The kitchen is our battlefield where we could create a mess. The lavatory is our sanctuary where we could go wild and free. The sleeping room with a cozy bed is our haven where we could dream, throw tantrums, or relieve stress.

But in the place where I grew up, there was no separate living room, no separate kitchen room, no sleeping room, and only the bathroom was separated, because our tiny house has only one room with four corners and walls where we play, eat, study, and sleep. We lived in a tiny Nipa Hut or Bahay Kubo in our dialect.

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Some call home a house, and I was confused back when I was a kid. "What really is the right term for that? Home or house?" I even asked myself. But people use the term house more often and I seldom hear home.

Reminiscing my childhood memories living in our nipa hut, all days were sweet no sweats. We may not have modern gadgets to play with, but we had a lamp where we could play pet shadowing. We may not have a flat-screen TV to watch movies, but we had an old radio where we could listen to drama and songs. We may not have a huge house with enough rooms for each of us, but we had a wide yard where we could play around anytime we wanted to. We could run, hide and seek, marry-go-round, patentero, tumbang preso, etcetera.

In a secluded place where we lived the trees, flowers, a river, and a mountain were our neighbors as we were quite far away from the village. The grasses were our field, the trees were our posts, the canopies were our sheds, the branches were our swings, and the river was our pool. Our little house was blessed with the fruits of nature and our life was as simple as ABC.

In A Place Called House, How Could It Be Home? We called it house but was it home?

I never saw my parents fighting in those years living in the nipa house, they were always sweet and caring. And having no gadgets and other products of technology was an advantage as it gives us more quality time to bond. We all play together during the day, eat together in one place, and sleep together on one mat under one wide blanket.

And I could say that during those times, I was living in a home, not a house. And I could feel that "home isn't a place, it's a feeling," just like Cecelia Ahern quoted.

We may not have the material possessions that other families have, but we have the love and happiness that made our home.

That was until we grew up and took different paths. We relocated and built a concrete house. Was it still home?

My father, together with my two brothers have followed the path up to highlands to serve the country and protect the countrymen. I felt like there were empty spaces in our home, the once intact feelings were scattered and there were lesser genuine moments. Meanwhile, I opted to live in a bustling city away from home to pursue my studies and dreams leaving my mother and little siblings at home.

I couldn't call it home and I called it a house, especially when the two brothers chose to make their own homes and left us behind. The time came that our home was clouded with dark clouds and shadows that took so long to shove them out. That was when the head of the family broke the rules and left my mother to shed tears in vain and our home was shattered into pieces, dismantled and we had hostile ill feelings. No more love and happiness, and sorrow and hatred were formed.

There was no home anymore. Only the house was left standing but it was empty and dark. The four corners and walls were quiet but as the dusk covered the place, whimpers and agony filled the empty house. And I, hearing the whimpers of my mother, provoked my tears to roll down my face, and hatred for my father formed in my heart. I held a grudge against him when I was younger, but I formed more hatred against him when I grew up. He could hurt the enemies and rebellions, but not my kind mother. He could throw bullets on the battleground and ruin it, but not our home.

Every day when I faced the four corners of my desktop at work and heard the song "Danced with my father" played by my supervisor, I wanted to smash her computer. But no, it couldn't be the solution to my agony. Every time I hit the sack, I would beg the Almighty God to make my family intact again just for the sake of my mother and little siblings. I couldn't imagine how their future would be without a father because even my hardships couldn't support them all.

After months of suffering, my feeling couldn't contain when our father started to redeem his soul and follow the right path back home. The feelings of love and happiness weren't fully regained, yet, the house was filled with souls again. Two family heads stand on the corners to make the house sturdy and won't fall again. With continuous support, little by little, things started to fully recover, and brick by brick, the house became home again.

We may have followed different paths and some built different homes, but what matters is having the feeling of home again. And no matter what storm, struggles, and drawbacks came, it remains sturdy, tall, and unbreakable.

Some would take things for granted and wouldn't care about the simple ones just because they have much, just because they are more fortunate.

Some people would take their spouses and family for granted while others are praying and hoping to make their family complete again.

Some people would take the effort of those who are protecting the country for granted. While families like ours with soldiers are always worried about the fact that our members might be harmed on the battlefield. And there's no days and nights that we aren't praying for their safe come back every time they are sent out to deal with the bullets of the enemies just to protect the people and the country

Every little thing we have should be taken into account.

The simple house that we have. The simple dish on our tables. Our job. Our family. Even our neighbors, strangers, and the nature where we live in. Be blessed that you have them. Because there are thousands, perhaps millions of people out there that are struggling to survive in this world, struggling to regain their shattered lives, struggling to fix their broken families, and struggling to retrace their lost track.

So if you have a house that is a home, treasure it and don't take people inside it for granted. Cherish those people and always take every day with them as if it is the last. Because we don't know what tomorrow holds. We don't know if we can fix a home once it becomes broken. We don't know if we can regain back harmony once it shatters. We don't know if we can come back again once we lost our path.

Don't let your home become dark and empty. Always fill it with love and happiness.

Originally Posted on read.cash https://read.cash/@Jane/a-house-that-is-a-home-a7390837