In the past 28 years of my life, I have lived in seven cities. That’s, on average, four years per city. In reality though, most cities I’ve lived in for about two years. In 2009, I decided to come home to the Philippines and stay here for good. Fast forward to November 2011, I find myself wondering about the US, what living there again - this time with my own family - would be like, what leaving again would feel like. I admit that I toyed around with the idea for more than a couple of days. And then, last night, with my husband and daughter sound asleep, I was awake in bed thinking about the recent furniture rearrangement we did in our house. I thought about our plants, our shelves, our library, my studio space. I thought about how we really made our house our home now. Every corner, every wall, every room - we’ve made it ours. And then, it hit me: this is what I’ve been searching for all those years of moving and leaving. This. Home. I then realized that the itch to leave was not a genuine desire, but some sort of response to an undefined fear. While I’ve been wanting to stay in one place for a considerable length of time, it is scary to put down roots, to know that it’ll be the same bed, the same sunlight, the same everything in the next five or so years. It is scary, yes, but upon realization and acknowledgment of this fear, I fell asleep, with the comforting thoughts of home, love, and family in my mind.

This, for me, is the greatest gift this Christmas, and I am thankful.

The next years can only be wonderful, exciting, and fulfilling. Looking forward to every moment.