onthouden

I remember my first day at Orangevale Open, where I met a new kind of people. Discovering the children who would become my lifelong friends. And would change my world forever.

I remember the first of what would become many moments spent holding my puppy. His chubby belly rising and setting in my arms. Soft ears warming my cheek as I cuddled his dreaming figure.

My great grandmother’s face has forever burnt its image into my mind. Her mischievous smile flashing as she told me her endless tales. She had become so cultured in her travels. New York. Washington DC. Japan. I know there is more. But she never got the chance to tell me. I can only wish I had known her longer.

I remember tasting durian in New York. Its unexplainable taste was a horribly perfect match to its raw-chicken like feel. We were wandering the streets of Chinatown as a man starts yelling in Chinese. We were soon presented a spiky organic ball.  Within seconds of meeting the strange fruit that came from within I was hurled into dismay.

I recall fondly “The Land of the Rising Sun” and how the darkest of skies became the lightest of blues as its towns began to wake. And how its morning breeze carried the velvet petals of sakura trees down to kiss my face. A sunrise to transcend all.

I remember my first day of high school. Perpetually being mistaken as a senior for my calm and carefree outlook. I had been outgoing and happy all day, while truly wanting to collapse into a ball of terrified emotions.

And I remember this morning. Nothing could distract me from reliving last night; reminiscing with a friend for hours long past an acceptable time. And not giving a care in the world, because I was talking to him.