-Jose
Spring
The airport was busy, full of people rushing to and fro, arriving then departing. I looked at their faces longingly, hoping I’d recognize somebody. I’ve traveled enough to know that it’s a misleadingly small world that we live in. This world is so small that the gentleman who sat beside me during our flight happened to be the son of my uncle’s patient (my uncle is a neurologist). It was hard to keep up with the bustle of the airport, and it didn’t help that I just went through an18 hour flight (not counting layovers). I kept looking. But, what once was such a plausible idea, became nothing but a fleeting hypothesis. As I was waiting in front of an eerily motionless baggage carousel, I realized that this was a new world, nothing like what I have known for most of my life.
My parents and I moved into my aunt’s large, suburban, house almost right after our arrival. It wasn’t too insufferable; all we had were the clothes in our luggage, and perhaps some books that I had packed. I slept on a futon in my aunt’s basement/rec-room, while my parents slept in the guest room. The first few weeks was a blur, jet-lag wasn’t very pleasant to me. I’d be asleep in the afternoon, and then be awake during the wee hours of the night. But it did not bother me too much. As I looked outside, with the green leaves and the blossoming flowers of my aunt’s garden, I knew I could start over. This is not to say that I didn’t miss my old life; the friends I made back home were, and still are, an important part of my life. The family I left back home, my brother, my two sisters, my nieces and nephews, were, and still are, in my thoughts always. However, I saw an opportunity here. Other than my parents and certain relatives, nobody knew me here. I could recreate myself. I could make myself anew.
Summer
Summer, in many respects, is a continuation of spring. The trees were alive, swaying in unison with the summer wind. The little squirrels that moved around from tree to tree (sometimes garbage cans to garbage cans) with the same reckless abandon they exhibited months before. Moreover, I was still the same. I was the same 18 year old, filled with excitement and hope, thinking that this massive change would bring about something so profound. I might have been described as naïve, but I felt undeniably strong about a new life. I did not know what to expect, but I couldn’t care, much like the squirrels that ran around.
Part of this change was transferring to a new university. I decided to attend a school that was good 30 minutes away from my aunt’s suburbs. Being that I did not have a car to drive to school, I needed to find a place near my new university. That particular August, I turned 19. I still lived with my aunt, as my apartment was still unfurnished. I remember my mom, my aunt, another aunt, and my cousin going shopping the day I turned 19. They didn’t tell me where they were going when I asked. I didn’t really want to go with them. I was just being nosy. Nevertheless, they came back with a microwave, rice cooker, toaster, coffee maker, and other things that would complete an empty apartment. My aunt had thought that this would be the perfect present for the soon to be “independent” 19 year old. She was right. I tried valiantly to hold back my tears, and for the most part it worked. I moved in to my new apartment shortly afterwards. Things seemed to be moving at the speed of light and the only thing I could think of was the excitement it all brought. In less than six months, I had moved from one country to another, from one university to another, from a house to a one bedroom apartment, and now I was, virtually, on my own.
Autumn
Autumn is, at times, a very confusing season. The often yellow or fiery-colored leaves that mark the arrival of autumn almost always bring awe to those who see them. We admire its beauty no matter the reason behind the change. It is ironic how we only appreciate the beauty of the leaves when they are about to die. As the season progresses, the cold winds of the north start to consume us, the average temperature drops, and things start to die. It is as if nature gives us one last burst of life in the fiery-colored leaves then it takes it away from us by letting them fall.
The semester had started smoothly. I had found the perfect balance between school and taking care of my newfound responsibilities. I enjoyed my classes, although I thought them to be rather easy. I found myself a part time job that I rather enjoyed. I also found myself occupying my time with trying to cook edible food on a stove that, perhaps, was probably older than I am. I had the somewhat empowering responsibility of paying the rent, even though my father would transfer the necessary funds from his account to mine. I felt that I was my own man, at least as much as a partially employed 19 year old can feel. Like the fiery leaves of autumn, I was full of life and passion.
But as the temperature descended, so did I. Week after week of coming home to an empty apartment was becoming unbearable. It didn’t help that my parents, who were still living with my aunt, went back home in November. Coming from a large and close-knit family, I was used to always having somebody at home. When I’d enter the house, one of my siblings would always be plopped on the couch, or doing something in their rooms. Sometimes I’d be welcomed by one of my nieces or nephews, with their nanny trying desperately to catch up behind them. I had none of this here. To make matters worse, I couldn’t find the same support system friend-wise that I had back home. All of a sudden, I was hit with a homesickness that I have never felt before. I tried to placate my emptiness by being busy, but there’s only so much you can do by yourself until you run out of ideas. One particular night, I was watching a sitcom that I would normally pass over under ordinary circumstances. The sitcom was relatively well written and it was witty enough for my attention, at least for that night. Someone in the show had cracked a borderline joke and I found myself laughing hysterically. I was laughing, on my own. As soon as I had realized that, I stopped. I shuddered. I thought for a second that I had lost my mind (or at least starting to). I was as alone as I could ever be and I was terrified. Not because I was afraid of the dangers outside or afraid of the dark. I was terrified merely for the fact that I thought that I was slowly losing the only grip I had on my sanity.
Christmas
Needless to say, with all the troubles of autumn affecting every aspect of my being, the semester did not end to my liking. I had let some of my classes slip through my fingers. Had I continued the way I started the semester, I would have earned the highest marks I’ve ever had. Instead, I received grades that were almost identical to the ones I use to get back home. So much for reinventing myself academically. However, there was a respite to my despair. Even before the semester had started, I had made plans of going home for Christmas. Not only was all my family there, so were my friends. In April, I would never have thought of saying this, but I needed to go home. I needed to recharge. And so I left a snowless December for the warm climates of home. I barely made it home for Christmas, given that I had left on the 23rd of December for a trip that took a whole day plus the change in time zones. I was home, and all was right in the world, at least for a while. My family welcomed me joyously and lovingly. I was home, I was happy. My family hadn’t changed and what a great relief it was to see that. I couldn’t say the same for my friends. I realized that, in the months that I was away, everyone had moved on. Sure, my friends were very happy to see me. They each professed how much they missed me between toasts of beer, whiskey, or whatever it was we were drinking on a particular night. We spent countless hours catching up and re-catching up with those that I was able to maintain contact through the year. However, in essence, their lives no longer included me. They’ve moved on, I should have too.
Winter
Winter brings no comfort to me, at least not then. I arrived back from home in January, before the spring semester started. I had left my home twice in less than a year. I was heartbroken to say the least. I don’t know what it was that made me come back. Perhaps it was the pressure that I put on myself, being the only one of my siblings able to live here. Perhaps it’s because I have to repay my parents somehow for all the love and support they’ve given me. Nevertheless, here I was in the dead cold of January, and I still had not reestablished my grip on my sanity.
All of this crazy depression started to change. I don’t exactly remember what day or month it was when it started to look up. All I know was that it was incomprehensibly cold. Perhaps it was late January, maybe early February. But what I do remember vividly is the feeling of realization that I felt when I woke up one winter morning. The night before was significantly dead. It hadn’t snowed yet that winter and the leafless trees outside swayed their eerie branches in motion with the cold northern wind. It really wasn’t a lot of swaying, actually. Trees rarely seemed to sway when they are without their leaves. But you could see the pokey branches moving in the wind. I looked outside my window and saw the cold, hard ground. Well, I couldn’t really tell, but I knew it was hard. It didn’t help that the green grass that once brimmed with life had eventually turned brown. The grass was dead. Everything was dead. So I went to sleep, perhaps also, almost dead. I woke up the next morning, thinking it would be just like another dead day, like the dead night that preceded it. I pulled the curtains apart, expecting the same desolate wasteland of a cold winter day that I had left the night before. But instead of this, as I pulled the curtains apart, I was blinded by the whiteness of the outside world. Apparently, it had snowed while I was asleep. It was still snowing when I awoke. The snow covered almost everything. It was like this crystalline blanket had smothered the deadness of the season. For the first time in a long time, I smiled a genuine, spontaneous, smile. For a while, just like it was back home, everything was right in the world.
Spring
The snow melted away and with it went the deadness of winter. Spring started to sneak back in. I have to say, it was nothing like my first spring. My first spring was filled with anticipation, excitement, and hope. I was young and naïve, but it only took one year to change that. Sure, hope is always something I hold on to since without it I might as well be dead. But now, I knew what to expect. I knew what I needed to do. I had to stop living in my past, thinking that I could always go back. But my friends showed me that I couldn’t. I’ve gone a different path. And I can’t be lazy about it like I was my entire first year. I can’t just wait for the change to come to me because it won’t. I shouldn’t just sit there and my world change without me. If I wanted to survive, if I wanted to retain my sanity, if I wanted to grow up, I had to change myself. I had to adapt to this new world because god knows it won’t adapt to me.
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