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Thud, thud, thud it went. I put on the brakes and let out a soft sigh as I stepped out of the car. I hoped against hope that I was wrong.  But no, there it was…a sad looking flat tire.

I groaned. This isn’t exactly the best of places, I was in one of the side roads of Manila-at least there was still some daylight and it wasn’t raining. And, after more than ten years of driving around on my own, and with lots of lessons from my dad along the way, I was more than ready for this catastrophe. And so, I parked in the safest place I could find in the vicinity (level ground, no passing traffic on the side of the tire I needed to change, fairly conspicuous to other pedestrians so that evil elements who may take advantage of the situation would think twice)  popped open my trunk, made sure that I had pocketed my car keys and locked all valuables inside the car.

Here are some things that an empowered (by circumstance or by choice), petite, skirt-wearing woman needs to have in the trunk of her car:

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My sister has been trying to convince me to blog for a long time. Somehow, I never got around to committing my fragmented thoughts, what I call my one-minute truths, to writing. Now seems to be a good time to start.

My husband has finally come home to the Philippines after having worked overseas for three years. I know all too well what life was like for him there. I had lived that life myself not too long ago.

Two big balikbayan boxes sit in the family living room. They bear the marks of their long journey; one box has a conspicuous dent on one side. We could only hope that the breakables the boxes hold are still in one piece. Out come the linens, the towels, the flat screen TV, the printer…remnants of the life we had built abroad and uprooted when we decided to head back home.

It seems just like yesterday when I was still scoping out furniture, linens and appliances to make the little home away from home as, well, homey as possible. I was very lucky, one of my college roommates, a treasured friend, was already on her second year of working abroad when I joined the same hospital where she worked. She housed me when I arrived and, as her apartment lease was already lapsing, we quickly made arrangements to find and share a condominium. Soon, we were having Carrefour expeditions to stock up on cooking utensils and cleaning implements, Aussino adventures for sunny bed linens and notorious Ikea escapades to nurture the inner interior designer in all of us. As one astute friend put it, Ikea always manages to create things to fill a need that you never realized you even had (how’s that for good marketing). The mix of new found financial independence, the need and freedom to make a home for oneself and the challenges of the new work environment were truly intoxicating.

But life is always full of surprises, after the excitement over the newness of it all settled, I was left with the realization that as enjoyable as it was, I could not stay in the work position that I was in and moving up wasn’t really a possibility. It was a sad day when that realization sunk in. Gradually, I had to start making new plans for myself. But life was not through with the surprises (I guess the surprises will keep coming for as long as we continue to be alive), I had to deal with quite a number of curve balls. Three years down the line, my husband and I finally find ourselves back in the motherland.

I sort through some of the items in the balikbayan box. The linens aren’t quite as sunny, the appliances aren’t quite new and my precious Ikea acquisitions had to be left behind (why can’t dismantling be as easy as assembly. Gggrrrrr). The prospect of yet another new start seems to be scary and exciting…me thinks that at thirty one, I’m fast approaching the point where new beginnings are no longer as easy as they used to be. Life, please, be gentle.