I Don't Know What To Do With My Hands

Halfway through the plane ride, I was already crying. I held Lucia close, making sure she couldn't see my face. I kept whispering to her, "Be a good girl, okay? You have fun while I'm away. You eat lots. Laugh a lot." As our plane descended, the cabin lights dimmed so that we could see the lights of Manila more clearly.

When I saw those lights, I started heaving, clenching my fists, shutting my eyes, but the tears kept falling.

As we approached the baggage carousel, I saw the sea of people. Several flights arrived at the same time, and there was a massive crowd. And yet, in the sea of unfamiliar faces, I saw a familiar face (which reminded me how small Manila is, despite how large it is...you know what I mean), someone who is very dear to me. I hugged him, not believing my luck. Then I saw another good friend, I hugged her and we cried. And cried. And cried. I was happy to see her, I was terrified to be back. I was relieved to have seen someone whom I knew loved me without judgment. And I was tired of keeping my emotions in. There was a man who was taking pictures of our mini reunion, but I didn't care. Another friend appeared. Rinse, repeat. If only those people knew how much it meant to me to have seen them. It was almost as if the Lord let me see them, to comfort me. To remind me that even in this place of horrors for me, there are people who love me, whom I love.

Lucia's dad picked us up from the airport, and as I was about to leave them, I held Lucia close, looked at her for one last time, and said goodbye.

In the cab ride to my friend's house (where I will stay for the week, while Lucia is with her dad), I somehow managed to stop crying. But I felt like throwing up the entire time. I saw the dirty streets of Manila, the multitude of people, the many changes in the city's landscape (had I really been gone that long?), and just peoplepeoplepeoplepeoplepeople.

As soon as I arrived at my friend's place, she and I hugged, and we both cried. I heaved so badly, I found it difficult to breathe. All she said was, while stroking my back, "It's all right. You're safe now, you're safe now, you're safe now."

My arms still ache from the whole day of carrying Lucia at the airport. Traveling is so stressful for her, and so I had to keep carrying her, keeping her close. Now that she's gone, I don't know what to do with my hands.

It's only for a week, I know. Still. This is the first time I've been away from her since the basement. God bless Lucia's dad who patiently answers every SMS I send. "There's nothing to worry about," he says.

I don't know what to do with my hands.

I'll be meeting up with old friends, touching base with them, saying goodbye. The last time we left for Iligan, we didn't know that we were going to move there, so I took for granted the whole saying goodbye thing. In a way, it's good that I'm back, so I can do the proper thing, and move on.

My friend is a sculptor, so I watch her create. Right now, she's working on a piece that's based on me. It's a figure of a woman with a pouch, like a kangaroo. She's calling it Ma'amsupial.

...And my child is not with me.

I don't know what to do with my hands. I don't know what to do with my hands. I don't know what to do with my hands.