A month after our last move, we moved again.
And we’re back to the place where we grew up in.
I thought I never missed this place. I never really want to come back. I never really expected that I would be this happy to be back here. It’s still heartbreaking to see our old home’s ruins. The old picture of this neighborhood is still vivid in my mind. It’s far from the old hustling and bustling community which shaped me for more than twenty years. But it still feels different.
The past few days I find myself reminiscing my growing up years. How we used to play patintero, agawan base, luksong baka and taguan in this compound. How we used to stay up until the wee hours of the morning just telling nonsense stories. How we hated the grown ups for telling us to sleep when we still want to play.
The houses may have burned down, the people may not be the same but the memories are here. It’s still very much alive when I look into the eyes of my childhood friends, of my cousins, – it’s in the air that circulates here.
As I watch my nieces and nephews run around the compound, I find myself wishing that they make wonderful memories here as well.