I want to remember.
Every time I stride back further to my childhood I find it hard to breathe. Every time, I place the pieces of the puzzles into a solid form, they just drift apart uncontrollably. I am stuck into this vortex of the past that I cannot let go. I mean, why should I? This is the only place I feel safe and infinitely happy.
I remember the town. I remember the tricycle; the afternoon trip to the mini-supermarket. I remember walking around the city with sun rays hitting my skin. I remember the night skies and how they exactly look like when all the neighbours’ lights are turned off. I remember the smell of the streets; so distinct and pure. I remember the places I usually hide when the world becomes too cruel to bear. I remember the foods I used to buy with my little money. I remember the faces of the people; the children playing around the park, the adults watching them. I remember the taste of the bread baked by our local bakery. I remember the rainy afternoon I take a sip of Dunkin donuts coffee. I remember wet market and how lively it was when locals rush to buy food to be served at dinner. I remember my aunt; the smile she throws.
I do not know where this is leading. I just want to remember even this piece turns into a smudge. I want to remember childhood. I want to remember growing up. I want to remember how I conquered and transcend or broke my life into what it is now. I wanted to remember every detail of freedom, adventure and careless endeavours. I want to remember what happiness felt like when I was a kid. I want to remember how our cable TV got connected and how I collected the leaves of every plant that I passed. I wanted to remember my childhood friends. I want to remember their parents and how forgiving they were when I messed up on their houses.
I know I should not live in that place. It was not that rich in inspiration but somehow I felt my strength is there. My armor was left there and I want it back. I miss the days. I miss them badly and I cannot draw the whole picture. I want to remember who I was, how I turned to be me, and who I should or could have been.
This is a painful yet self-filling process. I want to remember.
