Homes and Happy Memories

It’s 3pm and my little one is napping in the room I called mine as a child. As I lay here beside him, I find myself thinking of the many happy memories growing up in this house holds for me.

I remember how I used to wish I was Plasticman so that I could just stretch out my arm to close the light before I went to sleep instead of having to climb out of bed and climb in again.

I remember when my mama let me pick out the pink floral wallpaper for my room and how excited I was that my new toilet was also going to be pink.

I remember that I was washing the cars in the garage to while away the time while waiting for my parents to bring home my baby brother from the hospital.

I remember the day that I came home from school only to discover that my brother had cut off all the hair on ALL my precious Barbie dolls.

I remember spending a hot summer day like this one at Enchanted Kingdom (a local amusement park) with my group of college friends, who are still my good friends till today.

I remember the fun my friends and I had playing rounds and rounds of Sorry in my living room one night.

I remember my uncle and my brother playing a game similar to air hockey with my uncle’s car keys in the hallway above the stairs.

I remember the smell of freshly popped popcorn that my brother had as a treat almost every night while he was in his teens.

My toilet is still that same pink one; albeit with new fittings and it’s no longer as shiny. The trees outside our house are now towering and huge. My room no longer has floral wallpaper but the closets and my desk are still the same as they were.

I have no idea where all my old photo albums are but I did find a whole box of my old journals. Going through them made me laugh and cringe at turns. I can’t believe some of the issues that I thought to be sooooo catastrophic that it deserved pages and pages in my diary.

It’s oh-so-hot-and-humid. It’s been like this since we arrived. That’s definitely new. I don’t recall the heat and humidity being this awful while I lived here. The traffic isn’t any better than it was when I left. Although my mama says it’s definitely going to get worse when school starts next week. And the thought of driving in these streets with the many different and new rules scares the crap out of me. And Holy Kamote-Q, Batman! The motorcyclists are crazy!!!

But the crickets still hum outside my room. The drone of the air conditioner provides the same comforting white noise that blankets out the rest of the world and seemingly freezes time. Maybe that’s what brought on all this nostalgia.

In any case, I’m glad to be here. I’m glad to be home. Humidity, traffic, and all.

Have any of you been back to your childhood homes recently?

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