by Fratri Edson Silva

As the world slowly begins to open its doors again and #travelgoals begin to thaw after being put on ice the past year, my social media feed is already bogged down with pictures of planes, trains, and mesmerizing terrains that would make any casual time-waster swoon with envy. However, not everybody is afforded this luxury.

I have spent the past year on hold. At home. Passport dusty and travel bag empty. Scrolling through post after post of white sand beaches, drone shots of mountain tops, and dancing cherry blossoms fluttering to the ground while I sit, one leg tucked under me, in the dining room of my parents’ house.

More and more, I find myself looking through old travel photos “pre-pandemic,” and each time, I get a little sadder. With the end of this quarantine nowhere in sight, I’m afraid my travel memories may have hit their limit; I won’t be able to make any more.

(Obviously, I know this isn’t true. There will be an end to this…. eventually)

On day xxx of lockdown, I walked into my parents’ room, where my father was watching a YouTube video on their flat screen. They were watching a walking tour of ancient churches, cathedrals, and similar structures. It was the Holy Land. My father had been there twice in his life: during Pedro Calungsod’s beatification and, later, canonization.

He would stir and point at the screen every now and then, exclaiming, “I’ve been there!” He would tell one of the usual travel stories people love to share. He would smile, and each time would be punctuated  with a tinge of sadness and longing. 

I’ve only truly picked up on my travelling addiction relatively recently (like half a decade ago), whereas my father has over 30 years’ worth of travel memories that must also seem to him to have hit their limit. Three decades abruptly stopped. I don’t want to imagine how that feels.

Nostalgia runs in the family. And it affects everybody.

As a family, we continue to stay home. For ourselves and the people we love.

So I bite my tongue and take a breath.

The next time I board a plane, I might cry.