The place I called home

Yesterday morning, I went to Makati for a meeting. The busy district congested with people; the smoking vehicles compelling me to cover my nose; and the sense of rush everyone was doing make the entire city unlovely. Yet despite of what makes the city unlovely, it is a place where people invest hardwork to earn money for a living; a place pact with dreams and ambitions; and a place where opportunities abound. Everytime I go, the height of its buildings make me feel inferior but the sense of superiority outstands it as my personal motivation counters everything. Makati is more than just a business hub for me. It used to be my home.

After my meeting, I grabbed a cab and asked the driver to bring me back to the office. During the ride, we passed by Makati Avenue, and a place that seems familiar caught my attention. It was the place I once called home. A parking area.

The place has not changed much. The small quarter was still there and the scene was almost the same. The moment was nostalgic.

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When I was in high school my parents worked in Manila and they always tried to save money so I can visit them. My father was just renting out a small room at her sister’s place. One night, they had a sort of misunderstanding and so we had to leave. That moment, we didn’t know where to go. It was a night of silence that seemed like the world was whispering hopelessness towards me, trying to figure out what will happen next.

My father called his friend who was working in a parking area in Makati. He asked a favor if we can stay there for a night, and fortunately we did. I know at a young age, it wasn’t safe but the survival instinct in me, said, “You have no choice but to survive for the night.” And so the one night of stay, turned out to be a month of hearing cars and buses passing by the busy city – But I  dismissed the feeling of discomfort for as long as we had a place to stay.

Man cannot aspire if he looked down; if he rise, he must look up.” – Samuel Smiles

I had to cross three rows of cars parked at the area so I can take my shower for the day. I had to hide myself whenever the supervisor of the area comes. I had to cook meals outside the quarter. The experience was challenging but it gave me a lot of lessons that I could never forget.

The importance of holding on to my dreams made me even stronger as a person. The experience taught me to how “live”. I know someday, I will no longer need to hide myself at the back of the door; because I made a promise that I will build my own house as big as my dreams.

 

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