Those Were the Days

I remember a time when I would spend hours on my swing, rocking horse, or mini pool.

I remember a time when Ann, Jamil, and I would ride our bikes up and down our street, shouting, "Yo, Joe!" whenever we'd pass each other - because, you know, we were really those guys from G.I. Joe.

I remember a time when I would sing and dance in front of the mirror, like no one was watching (okay, this one I still do).

I remember a time when Edge and I would excitedly open Christmas presents; there were always so many. Oh, what a joy!

I remember a time when Edge and I would jump up & down and yell "Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!" - stopping only once mom and dad got out of the car to hand both of us our daily chocolate bars (thus the bad teeth. Haha!).

I remember a time when I picked out numerous flat stones from our garden, jazzed them up with different neon paints, and sold them to my neighbors as Moon Rocks (I made some moolah out of that one. Suckers! Haha!).

I remember a time when I would take mom's car in the middle of the day and drive off to my Secret Hiding Place, where I'd spend an hour or so alone with my thoughts, some junk food, drinks, and good music.

I remember a time when I would put on a special show for the adults by teaching my little cousins and neighbours their respective song, dance, and acting numbers (yup, I did this way before all the talent shows on TV. Hehe).

I remember a time when I would get up ahead of everyone, so that they'd all wake up to a house full of funfare fit for whatever occasion we were celebrating that day.

I remember a time when I went on adventures galore with my partners in crime, Edge, Ann, and Jamil - biking, playing hide & seek in haunted houses, breaking the springs on Edge's bed by somersaulting on it all the way from the top of the closet, crossing the river (our living room) on an overturned foldable canvas bed; saving the world as Care Bears; drinking awful potions from a thermos hauled up to the attic via a makeshift pulley; owning Jamil with my football hook kick (although, to be honest, I have no idea how I did it), discovering the hidden toy shop underneath our stairway, having Ann and Jamil's dad throw me out of their house cos we communicated with ghosts via my Ouija board, and other such awesome adventures.
(Sadly, I have no pics of those, but here's a lame one taken during Edge's birthday)

I remember spending what little cash I had on treats to serve as prizes for Scavenger Hunts which I would set up for Edge, my cousins, and neighbours.
(I have no pics of this one either, so here's one of Edge and I with our cousins, Bamba and RJ, at the beach. Edge's big tummy is a testament to the many treats he won. Haha!).

I remember a time when I would always try to "make memories" for me and my loved ones.

I remember a time when Edge and I would spend almost all our time together... Sitting & eating in front of the TV, only to suddenly and simultaneously deafen everyone else in the house with boisterous laughter (this, followed by mom's "You're both crazy!"); playing Guess-the-Product while the commercials were on; playing video games, only to stop, look at each other, and burst out laughing after dad's nonchalant "You want some chips? Chip-chop."; driving aimlessly around the village while singing and dancing to the Kopiko jingle, only to have people look at us with strange, questioning eyes....
I know this all sounds stupid. Only Edge would understand.
We're on a wavelength of our own.

I long for those days - when life was easy and problems were shallow.

I long for childlike fun, harmless crushes, tokens of love, wide-eyed wonder, easy drives, green meadows, making memories, an endless supply of hugs & kisses, and lots of heartfelt laughter.

I long for the comfort of the familiar.

I long for a place where everyone knows the underlying meaning behind my every groan, grunt, moment of silence, look in my eye, furrow of my eyebrow, and purse of my lip.

I long for simplicity in everything - your thoughts, emotions, routine, responsibilities, happiness, and heck, even your sadness.

I long for people and a place I can call "Home"; it's been ages since I've had that.



Ugh. Being an adult is a bitch.