i’m writing you this letter in the bus, it’s not even 6am yet. The world is so quiet at the moment, i know it will get busy in the next couple of minutes, but for now i’m enjoying this empty bus. It got me thinking about when I was a kid and always the first one in the yellow bus. Waiting for my friends, sitting in the back with my pink backpack. Life wasn’t so bad. it’s crazy how things change, how i don’t sit in the back anymore, how i take the bus by myself, on my way to work not school. No more pink backpack. No more yellow bus. i kind of miss that time of my life.
I’m still in the bus, Monday, and i just pass by my old house. I wish i could’ve snap a picture for you, it was a pretty house. and just like the pink backpack, it’s gone. We moved out years ago and even if i live just a couple of street from it, it still feels so far away. The numbers of memories, good and bad, that comes back rushing everytime i see the house is overwhelming.
I guess i’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic this weekend, so i felt like taking a trip to back in my old days.