Currently behind my desk, in my fuzzy purple socks. The weather has gone up a notch, thus allowing me to prance around in my shorts and a tank top. I thought I liked winters.

I study in a residential university, and kids below 17 are a rare sight here. They come along to drop their elder siblings off to college sometimes.
I was having breakfast the other day in the mess, when a young boy of about 2.5,was running around in the dining hall. He was wearing a dungaree and those tiny shoes that light up when you take steps. Some of the students rushed to play and pick the little boy up. He seemed to be unfettered by the attention he was receiving. I learned that his father worked on campus. A professor,perhaps. His father helped himself and his elder son to some cereal, looking on to the small crowd that had formed around his boy.
I’m not a fan of children. But this one had my complete attention. Maybe it’s been too long that I was with one. Maybe.
It’s also been very long that I’ve been away from innocence and serendipity.
The little boy ran up to his dad. His father had little pieces of bread broken,for him to eat. I suddenly missed my parents.
I shifted my gaze and came back to the view of young adults. Naturally, my gaze shifted back to the boy. He had lost interest in the bread and was staring up at one of the students. He started playing with her and clutching onto her key-chain, her hair. And then lost interest in her too. I chuckled.
Quite obviously at this point, I reflected on my childhood. I’m 19 and two months old today. So, I didn’t have to look very deep for those beautiful memories. Also because, they were on my laptop.

Images of me and my fractured arm, were the first to pop in. The injury allowed me to always be in my Dad’s arms. Other images of me surrounded by my stuffed animals came up. Almost all of them were either bigger, or my size. And no, it wasn’t to make up for any loneliness. I was very popular in kindergarten. My numbers were always in sequence. Images of my birthday celebrations. Pictures of me and my younger brother with our separate cakes. I love chocolate and he isn’t a fan of it. Yes,we share birthdays,too. Sigh.

These memories gave me a rush. A high. My cheeks began hurting. I realized I’ve been smiling for too long.



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