Perhaps it is true that the only thing constant in this world is change. And with every change that happens in our lives, one thing remains and lingers: the memory of a specific time of our lives. Often it lingers with unwelcome persistence, although most of them have been happy ones that I would want to linger in me for eternity.
One of my most treasured is the memory of me with my dad driving an old Ford sedan in the countryside. The actual physical beauty of the scenery had already faded; even the actual color of our old car had already been forgotten. Only the feeling of joy and security of an 8-year old kid, joy-riding with his dad, fails to erase itself from the usually-temporary pile stored in me. Perhaps it is because precisely of these emotions that it lingers beyond reason and logic, or perhaps it is because this is my most treasured moment with my dad; or the reason might be too obvious: I miss him.
Most of the happy ones are about family, especially the times when my elder siblings were still single and living with us. Our house then was a known factory of laughter; a rowdy bunch of kids that seemed as God’s omen to my parents. No other home, perhaps in the whole country, can even come close to whatever bedlam we could create, especially on weekends.
Nico, who had been my companion/confidant for eight long years, is no doubt one of those dearly-treasured. He was an auburn-colored American Spaniel given to me as a gift on my seventh birthday. It was funny how he could sense me coming home from school even from a couple of houses away. I would hear him bark, with all of his lung power, from inside our house that wall decors would fall from its clips, literally. I could not fathom then, how such a sweet barking voice could even be considered a noise by my elder siblings.
Perhaps as years roll by and we start maturing and get to wear older faces, our most essential measure of happiness lingers and never leaves. It’s true. And I’m grateful.