Growing
up.
We
have a lot of responsibilities that come with growing up. If you are a college
student, you have to study. If you are not privileged enough, you work. If you
are of legal age, you vote. Once you graduate, you find a decent job. And come
election time, of course, you vote. A lot of paper works, appointments, taxes to
pay, bills to pay, new tasks to do...
That
sometimes, the things we cherished when we were still young tend to get pushed
back to the recesses of our subconscious minds. Digging up the memories of
the past is like going up the attic and searching through the old memories
hidden from inside the chest box.
I
suddenly realized this when I was riding a public vehicle to
the mall because I wanted to have my wristwatch fixed. During the journey, when the vehicle
stopped, I noticed a house, and I thought that the
house looks familiar. One of
the occupants of the house happened to be my music teacher in high school.
Another occupant used to be a Biology teacher of some of my friends, though I
am not sure if she still lived there.
While
I was going home after I learned that my watch could not be fixed, I suddenly
remembered another house, which was a few meters away from my teacher’s house.
I remembered the place so well, though I was not sure if it still stood there.
And
the next day, I passed by the same vicinity again to go to the mall to buy a
new wristwatch. I took note of my route, and there, I saw the same old wooden
house behind the high walls and the high black gate. The house was still there,
though it had become a very important building related to the state.
And so,
my memories came flooding again. And I reminisced them fondly.
It
had been some years ago, and I will not tell you how long, when my music
teacher told me to join a concert for a national celebration. At first, I
hesitated, but I joined. I joined because I had been a part of the glee club in
first year of high school. My whole summer was spent on practicing at that big
house, and during breaks, we would also go to the house of my teacher.
The
memories I had of the house were very memorable. I was part of the choir, and
sometimes, our practice would run late in the evening. I met a few friends
there, including my teacher’s nephew who was still a medical student at that
time.
During
the last few days of practice before the big day, we spent less time at the big
house, and more on the actual venue. However, between the actual venue and the
big house, I was fond of the big house more. In fact, when I browsed through
the musical pieces that I still had, what I remembered was the big house most often.
I
really am not that good in describing my memories at all. Not at all. I tend
not to describe the way authors describe things in the novel. I am more of the
business writing style, so, sorry for that.
I
just want to tell my readers that despite the busy things in life, it is good
to get back to your yesterdays and think back of the good old times. It can
help you gain perspective and move on to the future.
