It was on a chilly afternoon when I'd woken up from a deep nap. It was the room where my grandparents now live. That room never had anything that was too personal, maybe that's why the naps there always felt so refreshing. In my head, that room was always considered the nap room, or the room where you sleep when you fall sick, since it was on the ground floor; more accessible and closer to the kitchen. Earlier that morning, mummy and I were at my school collecting my books for the approaching year, she met my teachers and was just as excited as I for entering the first grade. When I woke up, I saw my mom laying restfully right next to me and my brother laying with his head on mummy's leg. It felt so warm, the layered, grey, translucent curtains allowed just the right rays of sun to make it feel so cozy and light. The bedsheet felt the right amount of worn-out for it to feel soft and known, to feel like it had been there on so many such days. It was so crisply chilly, like ...
just some detailed fragments of my life I'd like to acknowledge or hold on to. much love.