The Cakes I Brought Home

It's been quite a while since the last time I went home, as I'm now working in Cebu, a neighboring island from my home province - Bohol. Exactly 4 months, a date coincidence - I just realized. I’d always feel that different feeling, a mixture of excitement, joy and belongingness, every time I'm going home. That's probably because ever since I was in college, I seldom went home during weekends, that of course excluding vacations. The city, our home province' capital and only city, where I was studying (college) then was almost 84 kilometers away from home which is about 2 and a half hours ride in a bus. My parents knew of the reasons why and I had their understanding. Yet now, here I am, working in another place. A place farther away from home than I was in college and that I'd have to travel across the sea. That's my life now, working away from home with no more long vacations unlike the summer vacation days I used to have when I was still a student. My longest vacation now is usually during year-ends.

As I look back and think of that last time I went home, that was more than a month ago, I can't keep myself from searching for that feeling - wanting to feel it again. It seems unexplainable but it’s seems to be a mixture of mysterious joy, happiness and belongingness. The hidden and unfathomable joy I feel when I see the happy face of my mother, the unrevealed joy I can see from my father, the smiles of my two younger siblings especially my only sister, our youngest. The little bit surprised reactions of my grandparents when I asked for their hand into my forehead saying "Oh, you're here." The excitement of my younger cousins who ran towards me when I was just about to enter through the wooden fence as they welcome me. Then they looked at the things I'm bringing and asking for anything that I might bring for them - a homecoming present. Food perhaps, movies or toys. That's usually the first thing they'd ask me with excited and smiling faces every time I'm arriving home. Bread or sometimes that puff pastry called "utap" is what I usually brought home - my homecoming gift for them. Even I could say that it's nothing really special, except for the "utap", since we could just buy tasty breads in our town's market.

At that time, I never bought anything from Cebu city, where I am currently working, since I was in a hurry then. And so when I arrived at the capital city of my home province, I was thinking of what would I bring home. This is one thing I know I'm not really good at - choosing presents or foods as gifts for others. While walking inside the mall, I came across the Goldilocks station and then something caught my eyes. The cakes. Given the simplicity of how our family lived, I could only remember a few moments that we have shared a home-baked cake at home. As long as I could remember, I don't think we had more than 10 times having locally-bought cakes that we ate on special occasions.

So there I am, looking at the deliciously and well-decorated cakes inside that transparent glass display. And there I stood, spending minutes choosing which to buy. After a few more minutes, I finally made up my mind and lined up then purchased one cake with a sigh.

It’s almost 3 hours and I’m off the bus. As I walked beneath the tall coconut trees, I could clearly see our house; I could hear our dogs already barking. And just as how they usually welcome me, there they are - my younger siblings and cousins welcoming me. My two young cousins were running towards me. I could see the excited faces of my sister and my younger cousins as they saw I'm bringing something - a paper box wrapped with a yellow lace of ribbon. They were surprise and I could tell that by the way they look at that thing I'm bringing. They were asking what was it and I told them. Then they eagerly asked if they could eat it already and I said no because we have to wait for everyone to come home and share the cake - after our dinner. They almost are impatient as they would sneak at the cake placed inside the refrigerator from time to time.

My cousins and my younger sister then had an early dinner. I could sense their excitement for the cake. Right after the dinner, they were asking if they could already eat the cake. The youngest cousin, a first grader, told me he would like to eat since he is already sleepy. His older brother told me that he goes to bed early now and that time, it was already past his sleeping time. My grandfather told to us to let the children eat first since my parents and my other cousins at still not home yet. And so I got the cake from the refrigerator and then sliced it. I took a photo of the cake. A remembrance. Before I sliced the cake, they were even singing the happy birthday song to my youngest cousin even if no one really had a birthday. It was a joyful atmosphere. Even before I could finish slicing it, my cousins and my sister already were so noisy choosing which part they would take. They're so excited to get a taste of it. And finally, they got their slices and so noisy wanting to take additional slices.

After almost an hour, my parents arrived. We had our dinner and then shared our part of the cake. My mother told me that if they hadn’t a son working as an Engineer, then they couldn’t have eaten a cake like that. My smile shows my happiness hearing those words.

And now I am thinking that on that day, I brought home two cakes – that cake we shared and me. They were happy with the cake but I know more that they were happier I went home.