I became a city dweller for a decade now. I've witnessed how buildings were torn down and rose to skyscrapers year after year.I had cultivated patience in commuting to and from the workplace due to uncontrolled volume of vehicles added on the streets every year. I've seen how people raced to the metropolis with torch glowing with hopes, believing answers would find its way on long-unanswered questions in time of their exodus. I inhaled the smoke and dust constantly emitted by cars and factories. I learned to live an independent life. Practically, hanging on to oneself when ripples of unfriendly circumstance constantly strikes to wash me ashore.
Going home to my town had been always exciting.The trip gives me a different perspective. It enables me to appreciate and savor the beauty of nature, which most of us take for granted.
The morning comes to life not by humming horns and engines of the vehicles but with chirping birds and lively sounds of the fowls at the backyard. I used to have two lovely doves in a birdcage. Feed them with corn or rice grains with the chickens and roosters. Unfortunately, the birds had an untimely demise for any reason. My muscles would be flexed, pulling the string attached to a pulley to get water from a ten meter deep well, that became heavier every time I come home. My muscle tissues must have clogged. And why not? A simple turn of the faucet valve, without much effort involved produces water at once in the city.
I could divert my usual habit of just listening the favorite music on the airwaves or watching the news and programs on television, into comfortably swinging on a hammock made of nylon string woven neatly, under the shade of the trees in our backyard. The air immaculately clean without a smell of pollution. How relaxing it was.
Days are too short. The clock moves quickly. In a short span of time, I had relived and enjoyed things that most of us forget to do, without paying a price for it.
