A Story Of Nostalgia In My Life

Story of Nostalgia

When the dishes are washed at night and the cool evening breeze caresses the warmth of my skin, I would go out and sit by the roof of the lower apartment. At a snail’s pace, I would climb to its tin balustrade so as not to create the slightest sound that could wake my neighbor. Being above would always give me a different sense of elation – away from the arduous state of the city life. Every time, I sat there, I would stare steadily into the darkened sky and start to feel the wonderful memories that gradually come back to my senses. Then I will realize – I’m missing my childhood
Everything is still lucid in my memory – our 7-room ancestral house in Maasin, So.Leyte; the healthy growing and productive java apple in our front yard; the not-so-productive guava tree in our backyard; the dead and withered “anunang” tree that we usually adorn with Christmas lights; the big “pasong” (old-fashioned bathtub) where we joyfully make as our own swimming pool; and the soothingly pleasing garden of my aunt.

I would wake up every morning with an enthusiastic and playful anticipation of the new adventures in stored for that day. We used to spend most of our times, watching cartoons; building miniature houses out of unused carton boxes or transforming our storeroom into a horror booth. Summertime would make us splash inside our big “pasong” (old-fashioned bathtub) where we ingeniously imagine as our own swimming pool; and in the afternoon, we dash with the winds as we fly the highest kite possible. Rainy days never bore us. We could always think of something to enjoy. Whether we make unstructured and unformed pancakes or just simply sing along with the guitar or play card