Reminiscences

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?

The One Who..

I'm the one who stares blank-faced thinking of tomorrow, next week or next year when people think she's angry, sad or just mad at someone and don't want to talk about it and when she admits the truth, they think she's trying to wave them off.

When her classmates are roaming around the corridors, gossiping about this girl or that, she'd be sitting behind at class, reading. At the bus, she'd take down a paper and a pen, waiting for inspiration to strike when the others are chattering about their day and how unfair particular teachers were.

During lunch breaks, she'd hurriedly have her meal, eat it alone or with some friends at class then ward off to the library and start moving her fingers over the titles of the English section, looking for a new and interesting book to read or some cool facts to learn about. When she comes back to class, without asking where the hell she was, they'd laugh and tell her it was totally expected as she's a nerd.

At home, she's either doing her homework, researching, reading, watching TV or writing. At bed time, she'd grab the book on her nightstand and start reading where she left, slowly, her tired eyes lull her to a good night sleep where she dreams of extraordinary things that the moment she wakes up, she'd jot them down.

When asked about her opinion, she speaks out truthfully, not afraid to edit some thoughts for the impression that she's rude, because, after all, they asked for it. When told off, she'd learned not to take it personally and simply listen, take what she thought was relevant and flush down the rest.

While walking, playing or even laughing, words form into her mind in their own way as if it was the force of habit that she narrates everything. When looking at certain things, she'd see them as words in print or in her scrapbook or her blog...she keeps searching for minor details to spice up the topic, and immediately, everything takes shape within minutes.

As soon as she's been given money, she thinks of which books to spend it on. She'd do her homework: logging on to special sites to check reviews and best-selling lists and type down those that interest her. Printing the paper, she insists on heading to Borders and buying whatever on the list. Then, she just can't wait to get back home and start reading already.

She's the one who dreams of her own library, her huge book-shelves and the smell of books filling in her place. She dreams of her library filling in with people, close-marching in lines for her to sign on their copies of her novel.

She knows so much of this might come true, but till then, she'll keep dreaming.