As the year ended, I found myself entangled in sticky, lingering emotions that I could not rid of despite being in a new country. I thought exploring a new country that looked like home can ease my deep-seated yearning and guilt, but the yearning lingered like garlic on my hands. The guilt coated my gaze like a poorly made caramel that has stuck on the bottom of the pan. I had to remind myself that since I left home, December has become one of the most difficult months to go through.

Somewhere in this short story you will discern a reality blended with a creeping desire for other stories to be told. Somewhere in this story you will discern an ending that creates a horizon for a new becoming. Somewhere in this story you will discern a path yet to be taken.

Here’s a taste of a year that ended with a yearning for pork sinigang: Last soup of the year.