A.N: I haven't done any serious editing so forgive me if there's a lot of grammatical errors, typos and spelling.
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I was standing in front of my mother's collection of picture frames set up in rows on our console table. Some were hanged on satin white wall perpendicular to where the old molave table was standing.
I remember my mom saying that these photos held memories behind it. Some were taken months ago when our family had our first trip in Paris. One was taken candidly during my 18th birthday while I had my first dance with dad, and mom also kept this little picture of me while I was playing hopscotch with other kids my age.
It is somehow magical to know how five seconds of my life had been captured and that it could brought back memories of my past.
A smile crept on my face realizing how my mother made a timeline of my childhood. She could be able to arrange all of it in chronological order without missing anything.
Even the most painful memories I have . . . it was there.
I couldn't blame my mom because she doesn't know.
It was a photo with my childhood bestfriend taken years ago.
I remember this huge balikbayan box that we took when it was put into trash. We had been staring at it for five minutes until we decided to make something out of it.
I was thinking of something purplish while you were busy figuring out how we could turn that thing into a rideable toy jeepney.
An hour later, we ended up with a jeepney painted in purple. We both raised our thumbs up knowing that we did a great job and it was also our own little gesture once we agreed on making decision as one.
When the paint had gone dry, we used our crayolas in making tiny doodles of different kind of flowers and cute animals all around our little ride.
We had so much fun riding our purple jeepney and we also made a promise that we will not be picking up any passengers along the way.
It was just us, it was our own little adventure.
We were both inside the purple jeepney, with your arms around mine while smiling widely in front of my mom's camera.
Strange how it still gives me pain every time I take a look at how happy we once were, even if it had been captured a long time ago.
It hurts every time I see you because I thought we made a promise,
but then you picked someone up along the way.