Looking at the dried flowers that sit still on top of my table is just like keeping a time capsule. When my eyes lay on them, the present version of me feels an itch at the back of my head reminding me of my whereabouts on that special day I received them.
Its musty scent takes me back to when I cried because, finally, I made up with an old friend. I can clearly recall the joy I must have felt when I saw her outside my house. Rubbed my eyes quite more times than I should as I thought I was still dreaming, walking in dreamland. It was a day I never imagined would come.
Just like how I remember the flowers’ original arrangement, the faces of the children at the orphanage I reached out to linger in my mind. I originally planned to celebrate my birthday with my small group of friends, but I have always wanted to help a nearby orphanage. So we went there, holding big buckets of Jollibee and a good amount of grocery that hopefully lasted them for a long while. Their smiles were all hidden under the mask, but their eyes sparked joy.
The bright pigment color of the flowers will fade just like how the memories of my 18th birthday will too. The pink balloons, the savory dishes, the ginormous cake. But for now, its remaining glamour will rewind me of how grateful I was to have been able to celebrate life together with the people I cherish.