NOSTALGIA

   -Nylazzir-

          

            It’s been 9 years since I left this place and it’s been 8 years since I last visited it. For those years, the memories come very rarely. Unexpectedly, one morning on my way to work, the "colorum" fx I was on, take a detour to avoid the traffic law enforcers chasing here and there. It happened to pass by Sta. Mesa, in "bagong tulay" as commonly known. Going on, I had a glimpse of that familiar cluster of 7-storey buildings all painted in white. The towering wall barricading the place was not enough to hold back the outpour of the neglected memories.I can feel my chest constricted from the assault of nostalgia.

           The four years of happy-sad memories felt so recent and real I almost broke into tears. The place had been my little paradise, if there’s one in this world. The stink of the cool gust of wind I got used to over the years, emanating from the pasig river,  the jolting sound of the train passing by the place every now and then, the buzz-like sound of our voices praying the rosary and angelus in unison. I can imagine myself looking through the window, snooping down the chaotic shanties nearby. The sweat and exhaustion of Sunday jogging, and the melodious singing during song practice on Saturdays and Wednesdays. An overwhelming feeling it was that I was earnestly wishing to freeze that moment, hoping we ‘re trapped in the morning traffic, even. But to no avail, it was a smooth flow, just when least expected. I had to avert my gaze as the image gets smaller and smaller eventually fading into oblivion, a time for me to awoke from an isolated reverie.