I miss my childhood. Sometimes I find myself reliving what has been. I imagine myself in the body of my younger self, a depiction of who I used to be - a girl with a head full of dreams and wonder. Looking back, I feel content with the life I had in our old home in Davao City. I miss that home. I remember spending so much time in my bedroom. I had my own desk where I write and draw and read. On Saturdays, my mother does the laundry and when I wasn't helping, I would be in my room reading a book or writing in my diary while listening to the thrum of the washing machine, the sound of water flowing from the rusty faucet, and my mom hard at work. She occasionally shouts my name to get me to come out and help her, and me being my bratty, teenage self, would grunt a reply and would grudgingly put my book down to go outside.

It's nostalgic how these memories flash through my mind on the most random occasions like today. I'm 25 now and that memory seems like eons away. I wonder how everything would have been if we hadn't left that home. Would I be where I am today if we stayed in Davao?