Villages have a beautiful world of their own. Free from the hustle and bustle of city living, pollution and a rambunctious crowd, they evoke a distinct beauty of nature that is incomparable with the metropolis.
From their sights and sounds to their character and spirit, villages certainly remain as one of the most sought-after and worthiest places to revisit.
I am just fortunate and proud that my folks were raised and had been living in a village, which I also call my own. My village is where I belong; and, where I keep on coming back like home.
My Second Home:
My village is my second home. It is ultimately where I find solace from the bustling and choking activities while working in the city. With the peacefulness and serenity of its surroundings coupled with a care-free and slowed down pace of daily living, it is truly a place where I could completely unwind or rest my stressed and weary body after a hard week’s work.
Going home to my village also means a reunion of some sorts. It is home to my immediate family, for whom I share endless stories, joys and laughter with. It is also the hallowed place of my relatives who are actually neighbors, and who complete the picture of a large, proud, close-knit, loving clan. In short, it is my own territory, where I eternally feel safe, comforted, supported and loved.
I always feel nostalgic whenever I leave my village to resume doing my work and responsibilities in the big city. It is as if leaving paradise. Vivid montages and thoughts of the place continuously flash in and cross my mind. There were the borderless rice fields in either side of the road, glistening with its golden hues under the bright sunny skies. They reminded me of the golden welcome awaiting when I reach the village while seeming to forebode and bid me a golden luck as I leave. It was such a mystical experience one ought to have.
A day in my village seemed too long. Time is found at a standstill midst the natural beauty of the place and its life’s easiness and simplicity. As I walked down its old cobblestone streets, old folks whiled away time while expressing unequalled hospitability by their sincerest smiles. Further down its byways and onto the open fields, there were the crystal-clear brooks, where I used to play around and bathe with childhood friends; the orchestra of chirping birds, mooing cows and other sweet lullabies of farm animals; the colorful flowers and cool, lush environs; the crisp, fresh breezes of the countryside; and, the romantic sunset over the clear horizon that is never found in the city. Everything just imitates memories of a nostalgic paradise.
Indeed, one should literally and figuratively smell the flowers somehow, sometime. Fact is, it is really a great opportunity, yet, intimate experience to reward myself for a breather in my village from a tedious daily grind. As always, I delight in every thought and chance to relive and reunite with the beautiful people and place.