No place like home: Tips for dealing with homesickness

Tears at the NAIA

I am finally checking in for my return flight to Los Angeles. It is Sunday, December 2nd and the NAIA (Ninoy Aquino International Airport) in Manila, looks deceptively crowded from the outside. Mainly as families and friends seeing their loved ones off to another world insist on staying till the very last minute prior to departure to drink the last dregs of a fare thee well.

Perhaps this is what perpetuates the myth of needing to be there four hours prior to your international flight, which I frankly never felt was credible or necessary. But my Dad used to insist, and when I was much younger, this was simply part of the ritualistic excitement of getting ready to go somewhere overseas.

This visit to home is a broken one. Broken because I am. I have not lived here in 14 years and in those 14, I have returned only 4 times. I am not so cold-hearted to distance myself from my origins instead I had been fortunate enough that family had always been able to travel to see me instead of the other way around.

When I came in for this trip I was overwhelmed by home-sickness. I had recently parted with a man I consider my beloved the pain of course is acute and blinding. As the plane approached Manila, all I could wonder was, where is home?

This was home, but not completely. Home, as they say, is where the heart is.

And my heart in this situation had been moved away, both by distance and circumstance. There was nothing I could do but go somewhere to lick my wounds while in the care of a loving sister. Such was and is my fate.

Now, after 10 days, I was leaving again. This time, the goodbyes were more emotional, fragile and strong at the same time. Poignant because not so long ago, this was a ritual I shared with my beloved, saying be safe, take care, and watching, smiling as either one of us went on our way and knowing each would be there upon the others return. The no longer is haunting.

I waited in line to check in and watched all the overseas workers milling about, getting themselves and their documents ready. Gold on many fingers, cell phones ringing obnoxiously, a lot of nervousness for their return to many other countries were they would serve or perform.

I recalled my sister mentioning a somewhat sarcastically written article by a local writer deriding some of the aspects of travel while in the company of the OSWs (overseas workers). I never read it. But apparently, it mentioned some of the