The place I will never forget.

It is early in the morning, I am woken up by my father calling my name and saying it is time for breakfast. I heard it clearly when he first call me 4 minutes ago but did not get up because I feel that it is only a dream. I am used to sleeping and waking up alone in my apartment far away from here. I spend almost half of my life living far away from my family to finish my studies and for work. Living here in the province make it hard for the younger generation to find what they want and love to do, due to the limited resource we got here, so many of us choose to study and find a life in other places.

I get out of bed before my father call me for the third time. It is odd to wake up at this house, the last time I spend a night here was last year, I only return here once per year. I eat my breakfast with my mother, father, and my younger sister that still living here. She is the youngest one, I think she doesn't have a plan to leave this place because she is thinking too much about our parents and I am okay with that. With my youngest sister at home, I can rest easy that my parents are in good hands, I just call them like 3 times per week to check if they have money and food.

After we eat, we spend our morning walking around the farm. My father is so into farms, like keeping different kinds of animals like cows, horses, pigs, and other animals as pets like dogs and cats. We spend the morning feeding them and playing with the dogs. It is been a long time since I have done this, when we are little, I and my brothers and sister will rush to the farm every morning to do the easiest task for the whole day, so it is better to get out of bed early or do the hardest task of the day.

In the afternoon, after we eat lunch I help my mother to collect fruits in the backyard together with my younger sister. My mother is collecting apples and other kinds of fruits that she planted many years ago.

My mother is always happy when I am coming home even it is once a year. When I am coming home she has many stories to tell and it is never-ending. Her story is never boring, sometimes when my mother is telling her stories I can observe that she always smiling.

My mother is always diverting my focus when I am coming home because she knows why I am coming home every year on the same date and month. I always come home during December but it is not for Christmas. I am here to visit the tomb of my childhood friend.

It is the other day, as usual, I eat breakfast with my family, take a bath and prepare to visit the tomb of my friend. It is a small town so I will just ride a bike to get around the town.

Before I go to the cemetery, I will go to the place where everything happens, where I lost my friend. I can still remember what happen and what I am feeling at that moment. I can still my hand that is soaked with his blood. I can still remember that smell of it. I am not ready to talk about this, maybe next time.

I proceed to the cemetery before I lost control and started to cry and panic. I am having a hard time forgetting everything that happens. Even it is a decade ago, I can still feel that it is yesterday.

I can remember it clearly but there is some part of it that is unclear, like where did the bullet come from and why it hit my friend's head and not mine? It is the question that is running in my head every time I came back here or every time that I think about this place.

Riding my bike around the town I can see that many parts of it change so fast. There are places that are gone but there are new ones that are built. There are places that are restored and look new and pleasing to the eye.

I can see that our small town with a population of 74 is coping with the fast changes of the world. I am happy and at the same time sad about it, I miss the old town I know, a town where there is a power shortage every week and the power will suddenly turn off at a specific time. A place where everyone is sleeping early in the night, a place where you can see the stars clearly not the street lights and the light of a car.

This time my mother did a great job diverting my thought...

All images are form Unsplash