I miss the school days of my youth.
Getting up at 5:30 in the morning, then sipping a cup of instant coffee.
I’d then take a bath with a warm water, prepared by my Lola.
I’d walk my way to school with a friend or two; easy; carefree.
We were just like any other students: attending classes, performing tasks.
During breaks we’d chat; we’d laugh; we’d play; we’d day dream.
When class ends, I’d walk my way home, exhausted yet looking forward to repeating the day again.
I miss the Saturdays of my youth.
I’d turn on the TV and watch my favorite kids’ programs.
Moments later, I’d change the channel to catch the weekly countdown of the best music videos.
Those were the “in” things then.
My soiled clothes will then wave at me; I’d face them after.
At times, Saturdays were spent for home works and group projects.
The day would end, with me having a handful of things.
It was a long day and there seemed to be a lot of time.
I miss the Sundays of my Youth.
After attending a local church service, I’d go home for a simple lunch.
The throwback music would lead me to take a nap, to re-energize.
The following day is a Monday, so I had to prepare my stuff.
In front of the television, I’d press my school uniform. Neatly, I’d hang them.
And my shoes, yes, they were polished, brushed as if they were new again.
I miss my laid-back youth.
I’d research using Encarta, saved files using diskette.
At class reporting, Manila paper were used. Powerpoint was scarce.
Selfies were unknown. Camera shots were limited.
Competitions were through the highest scores in “Space Impact” or “Snake”.
I did not have Spotify nor Youtube; “burning” actually meant storing files via CD.
I miss the randomness of my youth.
Those unplanned adventures, the secret trips to a classmate’s home.
We’d take long walks; distance which if I’d take now, would probably double the required time.
Welcomed by fresh Buko, we’d quench our thirst. The best thing: they were for free.
At times, we’d just take the road on our feet, without any destination in mind.
Maybe, we’d just want to kill time because we had a lot.
We did not come to a realization that we were making memories.
Along with those casual conversations were connections being forged, sealed.
I miss the Summers of my youth.
I’d just stay at home. Eat. Sleep. Take a bath. The process repeats the next day.
It had it lazy, but it was not unproductive.
I loved it when I had music on the background while I lie on my bed on sunny afternoon.
Dreaming, imagining, painting stories of future in my mind.
It kept me excited, determined and thrilled.
The images were vivid. They were perfect. They filled my determination.
If I will be given a chance to relive my youth, I will definitely do it.
I will even ask for Time to pause. A week, a month, just to experience my youth again.
Relive the past, same people, same condition, but with my present day self.
What will I tell myself then? I don’t know, maybe I will just be as spontaneous as I was before.
It would have been great!
However, time is such a precious commodity. No one can afford its price.
And yes, I can’t return to yesteryears, but I will always hold my youth’s treasured memories.
I miss it. I just miss my youth.