The Little Lady

I do have times of flashbacks of my childhood self. Growing up, my thoughts are immediately riveted with memories of playing dress ups throwing character of sorts from a rummage of staple treasures I find in my aunt's dresser. Around the summer season, I relish the moment of visits with my grandparents and catch ups with my sweet cousins in Bicol. This always brings get togethers filled with longed cravings of some favorite specialties and local delicacies, daylong out and about stories, and reminiscing the gallivanting Tom Sawyer spirit in us as we talk of trips to parks and beach on impulse.

As our thoughts travel down the memory lane also peals my feelings to revisit those free moments with activities and plans that holds a special place in my heart. When I was a little girl, as soon as school vacation rolls around, one of my bucket list of things I look forward to do when home is taking annual tours in my aunt's well-loved pieces. Growing as a child, in my mind's eye, seeing her love for crisp colors and easy silhouettes has and always have been a flurry of inspiration to me.

I truly pride myself as a living country girl. More than anything, it's a badge I sincerely take to heart. Although I came from a large town in Manila, I was born at a time when most parents are constantly haunted with the thoughts of danger coming at their children.

For many of us, great associations in its purest sense, can open ones mind to endless knowledge and unexpected opportunities. To some, however, can easily relate the word to fraternity— a familiar term amongst parents—dotted with physical tortures. Ultimately, such things is a difficult sentiment for any parent.

For as long as I can remember I had never been away from my parents since that time. And as soon as I was moved away from home to live with family on my mother's side is my yearning for familiar faces and personal surroundings. But at best, those wistful longings were persistently replaced by the serendipity of my then new home.

The fact there is no end of amazing sights to stop by, one of the beauties of a countryside life is the idea of you can never be sheltered in just one spot. Once in town, I was welcomed into a tent of community brimming with hand-nurturing people. And as you walk further into the village, perhaps a hailed name amongst its people is their down-home family leisure and their deep roots of craftmanship.

Flourishing with natural reserves circling the area is always an open invitation to rewrite your imagination. The quintessential charm of backroads is often a playground of plaything discoveries. Consider yourself lucky if you beeline your way into the trinkets corner—pluck a leaf and you have a harp, forgather a piece of string, a few short sticks and a recycled plastic can send your kite into the sky. The season of tinkering shapes of key items around the house (as comical it must have looked as flipping over an old crisper drawer into an instant washboard) also brings fleeting moments back into mind teeming with wonderment.

In a lot of ways, the collective curiosity throughout those times will remain a giant mood board of inspiration to me. It's a story that remains a constant reminder of the little lady's consummate ability when I am left in the company of my own thoughts of frightful events— to look back and bask in her innocent sense for life.