Mactan-Cebu International Airport is beautiful in the early hours — quiet, clean, almost sacred in its stillness. The usual rush of travel feels softened here, like the world is giving me a moment to breathe before I leap.
I sat near a window overlooking the tarmac. Planes taxied by, their engines humming like lullabies of departure. In my hand, a passport and a boarding pass — two things that once felt like dreams. Now they’re the keys to the next phase of my life.
This moment feels like standing on the edge of something sacred and scary. I’m saying goodbye to the Philippines — to home — in the most physical way possible. My feet will soon leave this land, maybe for a long time. And yet, I carry it all with me.
I thought I’d cry more, but instead, there’s a strange calm. Maybe I’ve already shed most of my tears in the months before this. Maybe peace comes when you know you’re making the right choice, even if it hurts.
I thought of my family, my old neighborhood in Sagay, the kind strangers I met along the way. I thought of the woman I was just a year ago — stuck, scared, shrinking. I’m not her anymore. I’ve fought through heartbreak, grief, and uncertainty. And now, I’m boarding a plane toward a new life I chose for myself.
They just called for pre-boarding. I zipped up my hoodie, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and stood up slowly, giving the country I love one last look through the glass.
Thank you, Philippines — for shaping me, for challenging me, for letting me go.
Oklahoma, here I come.
