Will I ever make it home?

I asked myself one day in December 2021 after spending more than a year in Brussels, Belgium.

In my record, this was the longest and farthest I'd been away from home.

6,660 miles away.

When I left the Philippines, it was still the pandemic.

Our country had the longest pandemic lockdown. The national and local governments imposed ever-changing policies.

Our government once decided to block even their citizens from returning if they come from certain countries.

I was stressed when I learned that Belgium was on the banned entry list.

I badly wanted to go home. Will I ever make it?

A rational person would have delayed and stayed where it was safe and comfortable.

But me? My creative gears kicked in.

The ban was valid for only 15 days if you came from a specific country.

So I thought, if I travel to a country not included in the ban list, stay there for 15 days, then fly back to my home country, maybe I'll be able to enter?

I didn’t wait for an answer. I took the risk.

I talked to people from within my work and asked for permission.

Then, I flew to Thailand. To be safe, I took COVID tests before I left Belgium.

I stayed in a 1-day hotel quarantine in Thailand.

I spent the next few days working from home through arrangements made with a friend living there.

Several days later, our government lifted the ban for Belgium, and I flew back to the Philippines earlier than expected. Before I left Thailand, I took the COVID test once more.

As an Overseas Filipino Worker (OFW), I had the privilege of receiving assistance from our government during my arrival.

The government placed arriving OFWs in quarantine facilities. For some, the quarantine place was a nice hotel. For others, it's a mid-range apartelle in a crowded barangay in Manila/Makati.

So, I went to one of these quarantine places. Again, I took the COVID test.

Every test I took had a 50-50 chance of turning positive, a 50-50 chance of getting stuck in a different place or a quarantine facility and never making it home.

Looking back, I realized what a fool's errand it was.

I shouldn't have taken so many risks.

But I got bold because I'd already spent a year living solo in a foreign country.

So what could be riskier than that?

***

Three days later, my Covid test result was negative. The government allowed the lucky ones to go to our provinces, provided we would stay home and quarantine for three more days.

At that time, I was so happy to be with the family that I would have done anything they wanted, including spending my entire vacation at home.

Again, the government efficiently arranged our bus trips back to the province.

On the morning of 24 December, I was in the waiting hall for the bus to take me home. I left Belgium on the 11th. Almost thirteen days have passed.

In a couple of hours, Christmas day will arrive. Christmas is one of our major family celebrations.

But here's the thing.

No one in the family, except my sister, knew I was coming.

So, I rode the bus, which left Manila. It was a 10-hour trip at the time. But inside the bus, I was too excited to sleep. I heard the murmurs of excitement or loud conversations from my fellow passengers.

All of us on that bus were migrants with different stories to tell. Some were going home for good. Some others, like me, took the risk, if only to see their families in a short amount of time.

Two hours before midnight on 24 December, the bus reached my hometown.

At that point, my father also knew because he had to drive the car that would fetch me.

But my arrival remained a surprise to the rest of the family.

The excuse my sister gave everyone?

They're picking up a late delivery of lechon (roasted pig).

Imagine their surprise when that lechon turned out to be me.

Happy laughter. Cheers.

And in my mother's eyes, some tears.

Back then, I realized how much they missed me, and I realized too, how much I've missed them.

That feeling of having a home to return to, a family to welcome you—it's one of the best feelings in the world.

That midnight, our noche buena was extra special.

After some years of broken relationships and despite the tragedies that occurred a year before and will happen in the next couple of years, we were again one happy family.

Thirteen days of travel, quarantines, and Covid tests in between, three flights, and one 10-hour bus ride later...

I made it home.

Finally

PS. From my family to yours, wishing you the gift of happy home memories. Enjoy the holidays with your loved ones!

Tin here! Welcome to Busy Season Journals, a newsletter made especially for you by a fellow accountant, adventurer, and coach-guide. I write about my adventures as an accountant and auditor and everything in between. You get deeper insights and personal stories on how to shape a happy, meaningful journey.

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