House of our own

I have lived in three cities. In Manila, I grew up in a small block of land with relatives surrounding me. In Bangkok, I stayed in a tiny apartment in the middle of the red light district. In Adelaide, I spent my "formative" years in a two-bedroom unit with my partner.

And now, it is all different.

I do not have to endure the nights listening to people having sex, people using their toilets and other activities that I really do not want to know about. I do not have to share a clothesline with people who do not use their own pegs.

We own a house now and it is really pretty. It has three bedrooms, an office, a backyard, a car port and a garage that will satisfy Steven's love for cars. I can now walk around when I am tired of staring at the computer screen. It is not awkward anymore to say "Honey, I'm home!

Of course, there are so many things to change here as it seems to be stuck in the 80s with the bright blue walls. We also need to repair the walls and buy some furniture. But we will get there.

Amidst this excitement, I can only think of two people--my mother and my father who passed away recently. I am sure he would have been proud.

I still have him in my dreams. I will tell him that I am so thankful that he brought me up this way and because of his sacrifices, I am happy.