Tracing the Way Back Home
My querencia only comes out at night when most people in Katipunan are holding bonding sessions in the living rooms of their condos and air-conditioned coffee shops, or slaving away on papers in front of their PCs. This is because the absence of the sun’s carcinogenic rays allows the stars to come out and flicker against the black night sky. I can still remember the last time I headed out to my wanting place so clearly that when I close my eyes, I can feel the cool breeze blow my hair into a tangled mess and taste the rush I usually get when I step out into the night. It is a memory that I hope will never fade the way most of my memories do, because I might not be able to visit my querencia for a very long time.
The memory begins with me closing the door to my dorm room and feeling a great surge of relief to finally be away from my roommates, who would rather waste away in their tiny world of local celebrities than do anything else. I honestly don’t understand how anyone can immerse themselves in so much contrived soap opera drama when there is an entire world out bursting with the promise of experience. I walk down the four flights of stairs that lead out to Katipunan Avenue, and after leaving the mezzanine floor behind me, I look up at the sky to see if any stars are out. They are. I pause to let a cool breeze dry up the light sweat that formed on my neck and I smile at this welcome change from daytime’s oppressive heat. I continue walking, and as I walk I stare at the cars that zoom by and the streetlamps overhead. I wonder what it is about the night that makes everything look so beautiful. My theory is that it has something to do with the fluorescent bulbs that give light where there is none, leaving the ugliness of the streets cloaked in its own desolation.
In order for me to be able to gaze the stars without trees, buildings, or electrical wires getting in the way, I need an open field. There are two of those that are accessible from my dorm, first one being the UP Sunken Garden. However, lying on the grass in the midst of all these necking couples makes me feel very awkward and horribly alone, so the exact location of my querencia is at the Ateneo High School soccer field. The first time I saw it, I was amazed at the size of the place. It is so huge that if I walk right in the middle or towards the end of it, the road leading to the high school would be barely visible and I’d get the impression that I’m in a prairie and instead of a soccer field. I was tempted to run around in glee, but I was worried that the guards would chase me away and ban me from ever going there. So I walked quickly to the middle of the field, hoping that the semi-darkness would hide my presence.
If the laws of Physics didn’t apply and I could design my bedroom any way I want, my ceiling would be the night sky and my bed a carpet of grass. The moment the back of my head touches the ground, the stars flicker before my eyes, a sight that never fails to leave me hypnotized for several minutes. There is nothing quite like a starlit sky to make you feel so small and insignificant. You see, when I stare at the sky, I stare at infinity, a concept my human mind is incapable of completely understanding. It’s amazing and at the same time frustrating to know that right in front of me is the entire universe, and I can only worship it from my place down here on earth because I don’t have the means to go out to it and explore.
After a while I stop thinking about all these things and allow myself to just lie there and enjoy the moment. There is this trick my eyes like to play on me. Every time I hold my gaze on a single star I swear I can see it moving from left to right. Sometimes I wonder if that is actually an alien life form posing as a great ball of gas. I bet if an alien landed on that field to whisk me away to their planet and use me as human guinea pig, no one would hear their spaceship come.
I can only be so lucky to have the stars out every time I go to my querencia. The magic of my wanting place is still there during cloudy nights, because when I am not trying to comprehend the concept of infinity or otherworldly beings, I let my vivid imagination conjure up different shapes from the clouds, from angels to demons, footballs to phalluses. My favorite is a dragon whose his eyes are the stubborn stars that refuse to be obscured. I like to think that it is an ally I can call on when I have no one else to turn to for help or companionship. My dragon never does stay for long though; it flies quickly from north to south, and in a few minutes the wind changes it into something else. But I know it will be back on some other evening.
After I have had my fill of the night sky, I sit back up and fumble for my backpack. I wonder if the guards notice that somewhere in the darkness of the night is a faint, reddish glow. A stream of smoke appears from out of nowhere and is carried by the wind to pollute the city. The silence is broken by my breath, the crackling of burning paper, and echoes of a dying conversation. Ashes fall and fly. My head feels like it would float upward if it were not attached to my neck. My lips taste like sugar. When my poison runs out I stub the stick on the grass and watch the sparks fly, always careful to keep my distance for fear that they will land on my clothes and set it on fire.
The wind from the north blows the clouds away, revealing the stars once more to me. I lie back on the grass, close my eyes, and smile at the night sky. I did not realize then that I would not be going back for a very long time. At that moment, all I felt was the peace and happiness that I can only get from my querencia, and this stemmed from the knowledge that I was home.
