I’d like to think that I have the ability to time travel. My time machine could be anything; a whiff of familiar cologne, music from the past, the sound of raindrops or even the smell of newly painted walls. Yesterday, it was the taste of my mom’s cooking that brought me back to my high school days. I still don’t have a yaya so my mom came over yesterday and cooked one of my favorite dishes, which is chicken curry. It tasted exactly as I remember that when I went to sleep that night, I dreamt about my life when I was still a teenager. It felt so real and vivid that I wanted to stay in bed for a couple more hours just so I can go back to that time. I saw myself walking from school one late afternoon. The sun is so bright and the trees seem so tall and green. There was a soft breeze and I laughed when I saw this naked 5-year-old kid taking a shower on one of the fire hydrants. He looked so happy as if nothing can ever go wrong. I can relate to him. I am happy that afternoon, blissfully so. Just walking on my own, enjoying the sun, kicking some dried leaves and humming a song. When I reached our house, I saw that the living room was a mess. My mom is a dressmaker so fabrics and patterns are everywhere. I can hear the sound of her electric sewing machine and it made me ache a bit because it was that exact moment when I realized that I’m just dreaming. That I’m just watching a scene that already happened and will never happen again. I miss coming home to my mom. Everything seems so comforting around her. To her constant nagging on how I should help around the house more. To her beautiful singing whenever she’s in the mood. To her delicious cooking and endless stories about her struggles, pain and joys.
How I love to go back when I can. Wouldn’t you?
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