dear diary,

there’s a stack of books tucked in the corner of my drawer

what’s that? my sister, she wanted to see

what rests in those dog-eared pages?

how do i begin

~

the spelling was atrocious,

capitalisation erroneous,

words askew despite the lines drawn

but the sheer joy that cascaded from the pages

was nothing short of innocent and

whole

my smile grew as my eyes coursed from

left

to right

distant memories becoming ever so clear

like the blurry vision of the camera

coming back into focus

and for the first time in forever i felt like

i knew who i was again,

where i came from,

and perhaps,

even what made me happy?

playing animal jam in thailand

drinking cranberry clowns at the pool bar

nerf guns and iced ribena everyday at six

i turned the last page over

and there i sat

enclosed in a blanket fortress of my childhood thoughts

~

desperate, i tried to grasp that familiar yet fleeting wave of nostalgia

to hold it with my fingertips

like i always did

delusional, isn’t it?

because how can one ever think of holding something so precious

so close to them

~

and so i stacked them up again

in that specific order i came up with when i was ten

tucked them into the corner of my drawer

and shut them away

enveloping myself in that fading semblance of bittersweet happiness

~

there i stood

my feet damp

as i watched the wave draw back from the sand,

away from me,

towards the blue abyss

that i knew was deep

but felt so shallow

~

i hold my breath

waiting,

hoping

for the day that i can feel

the touch of the wave

at the soles of my feet again

~

love,

jessica