Memories are like old friends. It eases your pain when you think of it, offer its shoulder when you're crying and just be there whenever you need it. It comes back and goes, protected by your mind and heart...And when you want to talk to it, it'll listen and keep reminding you of what happened or might have been.


I miss seeing things from one perspective, which was mine alone. The way I ran and ran, just like any other 3 years old, without fears or worries. And how I would scream at the top of my lungs or jump off the ground excited, not because I was supposed to, but wanted to. I miss getting hurt and when things seem like they’re falling down, without hesitation, I’d leap into my mother’s outstretched arms, the safest spot in the whole world. When she says ‘Everything’s going to be just fine’ I believe her because it will, eventually.

I miss my best friend, her focused attention on every detail possible and the sudden urge to question every question. I miss the times we used walked side by side to the library, discussing our latest read or mentioning our little brothers and sisters funny incidents. I miss the rush hour; the time of registering the borrower’s details and how we’d help each other out, wearing the position of Junior Librarians as a badge. I miss stuffing my bag with the books she needed to read so that we would discuss the plot together later on. I remember how she always tried to catch up with me when, in fact, my book-shelf have already flooded with novels she’d never even heard of before.

I miss teaching and my outbursts at the end of the day but then going back the next morning and repeating the circle all over again.

I miss the holidays, the way I used to wake up at 1:30 because of prayers and thinking that if it weren’t for that mere fact, I’d sleep the whole day. I miss having no worries about tomorrow or something else I am supposed to do and the thought of having nothing planned, just living the moment and anticipating what the next day had in store for me.

A lot of things I miss of the past but that, they tell us, are some of the advantages of growing up:
leaving the rest behind you and moving on. But what if I keep thinking non-stop about them?