A Moment in Paradise

            I witnessed Bohol’s city lights wane into the dark horizon after   twinkling goodbye to me. The frothy ripples drawn by the ferryboat we were riding seemed to murmur a song of serene warmth . The ferry seemed just as excited going home as it had been going to Bohol.

            A sun-drenched Monday morning welcomed us to Panglao. When I first dipped my toes into the inviting waters of the beach, I figured that if not for the change of environment, things wouldn’t be different from home. Almost everyone from my family was there that it didn’t feel like traveling at all. We brought home with us.

           What’s amazing about that reunion was that the only thing I was allowed to do was have as much fun as I could. Those were the ten most memorable days of my childhood when television, computer games, Barbie dolls and Chinese garters had nothing to do with fun. Even though I had the salty wind kissing my sun burnt skin or the constant swoosh of the dancing waves that wouldn’t give us silence, there wasn’t a day I didn’t wear a smile.

           At six a.m. my cousins and I would swarm into the blue green waters where we’d spend most of the day. The clan filled the beach with laughter and games like charades and quiz bees about the clan. I never grew tired listening to my family’s jests, political debates and heart-warming rendition of Bisaya songs. The whole reunion was a big party with meals sardined with shrimps and crabs, or roasted pig and chicken, barbecue and grilled pork, juicy melons and sweet-fragrant mangoes. I almost forgot what hunger meant.

         It was a magical experience shared by the old, the not so old and the young. There were the leaves of palm trees swaying as if dancing along with the soothing motion of the wind. There was the calm rhythm of the waves as it slapped the seashore. There was the enchanted moment of my grandparents, aunts and uncles, mom and dad dancing barefoot on the milky sands as Frank Sinatra sung along. There was the comfort I felt as my cousins and I slumped into a banig spread on the sand while staring at the diamonds spread across the dark sky. Finally, there was the joy of having experienced paradise with my family.

          That night in the ferryboat while I was staring at the horizon saying goodbye to Panglao, I figured that we were going back to reality, descending from paradise. But, the joy I felt didn’t stay in Bohol. It was my family that made paradise a paradise.

Ps. This was summer of fifth grade. I’m 21 now. Quite a long time, which makes this moment nostalgic.