We're back to the familiar: the cars prowling the streets are the same familiar cars. The faces are the same familiar faces. It is back to just us, and Sorsogon is ours once more.
On new year's eve, I made the mistake of going downtown for the usual last-minute rush. It was bedlam, and the really thick crowd made me wish I had body odor in a bottle. Or skunk spray. How wonderful to be some kind of Moses and see and sea of bodies part, I thought as I pushed my way past equally exasperated last-minuters.
The streets are uncrowded now, save for portions claimed by the more headstrong sidewalk vendors. Rush-hour traffic is back to a five-minute pileup. The post new year quiet takes some getting used to, and it sure gets a little lonely sometimes.
But then, knowing how people always seem to seek the road back home, I know that this is just a breather. The unfamiliar cars and the unfamiliar/once-familiar faces will be back in April. Or in June. Or in November.
To reclaim a piece of home.