Had a little bit of nostalgia-tripping today, literally.
It all started when we went to our cousins’ house to drop off something. While Mom was there, Dad, my bro, and I drove around to look for a photocopier. Guess what?
We saw our old house.
Now, that may not seem much to you, but to me, it does. After all, it’s where I spent the first five years of my life. I can still remember quite vividly those days when I’d actually play with neighbors, some of them my cousins (since I don’t get to do that where I live now).
I still remember the time when I tried on my cousin Mike’s bike, only to fall off (I wasn’t used to biking downhill) and get my knee scraped badly. (This I remembered while walking to their house from our car.)
I still remember their old house just a block away, where I used to spend a lot of my time playing and experimenting with the harmonica. It’s still there — the house, I mean.
I can still recall the day when I didn’t want to go home after having so much fun playing with my cousins over at their place. In fact, I think I only agreed to go home when it was getting really late, and if I wore my PJs (laugh all you want here, I was a weird kid).
I remember when Ate PC and I used to be busmates. Hell, the reason why I wanted to go to Miriam was because she studied there. It was my first foray into a so-called “big school”, and of course, I wanted someone familiar around.
I remember, when I was nine, we were supposed to go malling with our other cousins (Lloyd and Romlynn). What happened, though, was we got stuck in their house, and we ended up playing Tekken 3 all day. That was my first videogame ever, I believe.
Dammit. Remembering all those things makes me want to be a child again.
…I’ll go and hunt for baby pics now.
