A Dash of Paranoia
by Renato Gandia

Amidst the peaceful stillness of the maple trees, their leaves rustling to an unfamiliar melody, I feel it—the subtle ache, the bittersweet pang that lingers deep within my chest. It’s the longing for home, where the air is thick with the scent of sampaguita and the streets echo with the laughter of my kin.

In this land, where the snow blankets the ground like a soft whisper, I find solace, but also a yearning that tugs at my soul, remembering the warmth of the tropical sun kissing my coffee-coloured skin, the vibrant hues of jeepneys painting the streets, and the symphony of vendors hawking their goods in the bustling markets and streets.

Oh, how I miss the brain freeze from halo-halo on a scorching summer day, its sweet and icy layers cooling from within. How I long for the tangy broth of sinigang tickling my taste buds and the comforting aroma of adobo simmering in a pot. Each flavour carries with it a memory—a memory of home, of family gathered around the table, sharing stories and laughter late into the night when fireflies’ lights still gleam in the dark.

But even as I revel in the beauty of Aurora Borealis and the wilderness, with its majestic mountains and serene lakes, I cannot shake off the nostalgia that clings like a second skin. I yearn for the familiar verdant rice fields swaying all at once, coconut trees reaching towards the sky, and an endless expanse of shimmering seas.

And so, I carry a duality within—a love for the land that birthed me, and an appreciation for the land that gave me tickets to freely see the world beyond the Pacific. In this mingling of two worlds, I discover richness and depth, experiences woven together by threads of longing and nostalgia, creating memories of sweet betrayal with a dash of paranoia.