In the late afternoon, I was sitting on the firm surface of my bed. I can’t go back to sleep; On the grate, I waited until the last sunlight peeked through the slats. At that time I was in such anguish that I was dazzled. In one swift movement, my thoughts wished to see the distant place where the moments of loved ones dwell. Even if it was an intermission, I welcomed everything in alliance with my deep longing for the happy event. My heart was in the cry to see them all; my eyes shone with pleasures for all the fine senses of deep affection. While time held its breath, it gave way to rediscover the past.

It took me back to the time when I was sitting with other young children, maybe 6 or 7 years old, and where a teacher believed that she was holding a whispering stone she will always know of any malicious events hidden within her classroom. Magic, then introduced into the innocent mind. There was even a garden in which a dwarf statue changed position from time to time. It was a flourishing superstitious belief that resided in all children.

Then there was a strong nostalgic feeling that pushed back those days when I spent playing away from home; I was playing glass marble games by placing it in small holes just by pressing it between your index finger and thumb while moving it forward. He was a kid capable of hitting my opponent’s marble even from 4 to 5 feet away. As time moved freely, I was taken to the scene where I was playing the kicking game called “sipa” in the Filipino language, made from a washer with colored threads or plastic straws attached to it. She was wearing a good pair of rubber shoes, throwing the sipa up and grabbing it so as not to touch the ground; I had to count the required number of times to throw the sipa and then hit it as far as I could, away from the opponent to allow him to chase and catch him with his foot. In the spinning motion of the surroundings, I found myself holding a span of tek cards playing cards running away from other players who would ask for a share of some of my tek cards. In another scene, I was trying to rescue a captured teammate from another base and trying to also secure our base from an intruder in what was called “catch and own a corner” or “agawan base” in the Filipino dialect. I have won and lost many games but with all these; I’ve found new friends until the playmats have been folded up and tucked away when childhood moments slipped away as I uncomfortably ran into more mature roles.

My eyes flickered and I was suddenly brought back to the days of high school, where I was in the hot sun practicing the military marching cadence; in those who test the resistance; I was able to gain discipline and stamina; all the nearby barbershops were too busy to cade for the cadets in need of a haircut. I was a frequent visitor to the research library, as there was no internet during those periods. I spent many times reading and writing researched information and stayed up late at night reviewing notes. The timing was so generous that it showed events in which I would cling to the back of the jeepney to drive myself to school and sometimes briskly walk from house to school when traffic was worst during those times. The moment was splendid when he showed me bringing my lunch to school and eating by the river bank with trees in the background. I didn’t go very far in finding a university; in the same place that high school was where I attended my university. There was no escape from a tumultuous life in college life, that even in a more mature life, I was not spared from bullying where an English teacher made me stand up in class next to a classmate and asked someone to make a comparison between us. It brought me humiliations where it was difficult for me to forget. At some point during the last school year, I got sick and decided to stop, to make way for a minor stomach operation. That is why I graduated within 5 years and did not join the graduation rites.

As time went on, I was on a night shift job at the bank, reconciling data, and went home the next morning. Then I found myself doing clerical work, data control and data encryption most of the time, until I found a permanent job in the government that I served sincerely and then got married and settled. The most precious part was seeing my wife and son travel along with other family members. I treasured the moments playing with my little son, I discovered fun ways to talk to him even in long distance communication. It was lovely to see moments sharing a pleasant life with my wife that can change my life with her loving and caring nature. Time expanded showing more details of my devoted mother for the tireless and loving care. I traveled back in time until I reached the most critical decision of my life: working in a foreign country embracing different customs and cultures. Strict compliance with the law had strengthened and honed my personality. Every day he resided in the virtual world, where communication had settled on the Internet. Life outside the country of origin was like a ritual: going to work, calling family, sending money, and going back to work to earn a living. The disease that I tried to avoid is why I strived to lead a healthy life.

Over time, back inside the room, small and large details that on a patchwork quilt would tell someone that I have memorable memories. The years I spent living in a foreign land were as if I had been thrown out of my safe house, that’s why great changes happened in my body: gray hair prevailed, memory declined, inexplicable body pain, stress, nostalgia and anxiety. loneliness completely engendered my body to deteriorate. .

While the surroundings slept quietly at night, the entertainment ceasing as the crowd moved where only a few won the coveted spot of life. I no longer own time: the time to communicate with my loved ones, no longer to play a role with the community, to wake up at dawn, I no longer had to rush to work and shove with the crowd for a business appointment , no longer to worry about the threat of a suicide bombing in a crowded place. The sad thing was that I couldn’t touch or feel anything around me, and I felt as if a spirit got stuck in the earthly dimension and between the world of geniuses. Many thoughts flooded my mind. How can this be happening? I still have a lot to do, am I now an earthly ghost? Now, more than anything, I was afraid of being isolated with my loved ones; I don’t know how to accept that she was dead. I am still obligated to raise my little son, to grow old with my wife, and make sure they are well. Who will help me accept the last episode of my life? For the last time, I tried to hold up my cell phone to call my family, but my hand went over the tangible. I saw the light pulling me; I needed to decide whether to move into the light or get trapped in the earthly dimension. I decided to remain an earthly spirit looking for someone who is sensitive to spirits and who can help me understand death.

I stayed calm, cried sometimes, moved, and learned what a ghost could do. Then came the pouring rain; someone knocked on the door, it was a child seeking refuge, he tried everything to get away with it inside my house until he found his way inside. Suddenly I met him and probably saw myself passing him. “Do you live here?” Asked the boy.