Middle of the night routine

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Here I am again, looking at the clock, half past midnight and everything is calm and quiet, just the way I like it. All I hear is my table clock ticking and the clicking of my keyboard as I write this.

In all seriousness, this blog has kept my sanity for the past few days I’ve been writing. I used to love writing, before I left to work abroad, I had a blog waaaaay before blog was a a mainstream term, it was hosted in Blogger, hence, the term blog. I could still access the entries and it still makes me laugh at all the lighthearted problems I had and at that time felt like it was the end of the world.

Never have I imagined that I will be here today, in my current situation, writing this entry.

I remember the first time my mom made me write an essay. I think it was the gateway to my love of reading and writing,  I am far from perfect in writing, much less writing in english. My mom used to make me write one whole page of essay. I have to fill the entire intermediate-sized paper of anything, literally anything! She told me to just write anything I find pleasure in and she will check it afterwards.

So, I wrote about the butterflies and the weeds in the small garden that we had. I also wrote about my cats and I distinctly remember her with her red-colored pen checking my paper as if it was a graded one. This was happening during Sundays. It was fun while it lasted, but during that time I felt it was a drag. I now think it was fun.

Those small things are the most memorable ones. I truly regret now why I begged my mom to stop that tradition after some time as I felt it was a nuisance, I should’ve kept going.. making more memories with her. If only I knew how little time left she had to be with me.

In between the serenity of the night comes wave after waves of memories of my parents.

I really miss them.

Time-check, almost 1 in the morning. I guess I have to turn in as little bub wakes up real early.

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