The Walk Home

For seven years, I walked home after classes. From grade 4 to fourth year high school, I’d usually exit the back gate of the school, walk for a few blocks, and I’d be home after 10-15 minutes. My route changed a few times; so did the company. There used to be a time when I’d walk home with siblings when I was in grade school, when we got fetched by the old houseboy. Eventually, I’d get home on my own.

The sights didn’t change much through those years. The streets had their share of roadkilled frogs, the occasional dog that wasn’t shy about growling in its territory, and a few other students who also walked to their nearby homes. I even saw a classmate scaling their home’s gate, apparently because no one was opening it for him. Maybe it was his normal routine; I didn’t ask.

There were the oddest people too. When I was about twelve, I was greeted by some old guy. He was probably in his 20’s, so that was old to me then. “Hello, little boy,” said the thin, mustachioed man in his yard, smiling. I looked but didn’t greet him back, and didn’t stop walking. I thought it was weird. I’d been instructed not to talk to strangers many years before.

And then there were those supposedly rebellious students that frequented the sari-sari store to buy and smoke cigarettes. At one point, a mestiza girl who’s a batch or two higher, loudly said, “Walang choo-choo, ha,” as I walked by. Narcing on them was the last thing on my mind; all I could think about that was, “She looked stupid, smoking while in uniform.”

I took other streets after that. I avoided eerie-looking areas and usually went home before dark. Mostly, the walk home was a time when I’d usually daydream about things I wanted to draw, or own, or visit. I’d also be excited about the library books I just borrowed. Sometimes I’d just tune out and automatically get home in no time at all. I think, and I don’t remember this part clearly, I brought and listened to some tapes in my walkman a few times, too.

As I grew older, I’d appreciate the proximity to the school more, as my classmates and I sometimes did some projects in the house. Other times, we’d just hang out for a few hours to play records or read comic books. I certainly missed the convenience it offered when I went to college; going home meant getting stuck in traffic for two long, energy-sapping hours.

The walking routine is one I miss, sometimes. I didn’t have to worry about money, except when I had to check if I had enough allowance saved for the two Marvel titles I read monthly. I also miss the quiet times and the sunsets. Of course, there’s also the exercise it afforded me five times a week.

I don’t really miss the school that much, though, or most of the people I grew up with.