That night, we decided to go out and just be together. No grand plans, no expensive destinations just us, the plaza, and the City Hall. The plaza was alive with laughter, children running around, and families enjoying the cool breeze. As we walked, talked, and laughed, everything felt light. Life felt slow in the best way possible. We shared stories, teased each other, and talked about random things that didn’t really matter, but somehow meant everything at that moment.
The City Hall stood quietly nearby, a familiar place we had passed countless times before. But that day, even it felt different—almost like it was witnessing our bond. We took photos, joked about silly poses, and laughed when someone blinked at the wrong time. Those photos now live in my gallery, but more importantly, they live in my heart. Every smile in those pictures reminds me of how complete I felt that day.
What I miss most is not just the place, but the feeling of togetherness. Being with my cousins always made me feel understood without having to explain myself. There was comfort in their presence, warmth in their laughter, and peace in knowing I wasn’t alone. December 27 was proof that happiness doesn’t always come from big celebrations—it can come from walking side by side with people who matter most.
Now, when I think about that day, there’s a mix of gratitude and longing. Gratitude because I was able to experience such a genuine moment, and longing because I wish I could relive it again. I miss the sound of their voices, the way we laughed without worrying about time, and the simple joy of being together.
Life moves forward, and people go their separate ways, but memories like these remain. December 27 reminds me that no matter how far we are from each other now, the bond I share with my cousins is unbreakable. And someday, when we meet again, I hope we’ll walk through the plaza once more laughing, bonding, and creating new memories to miss all over again.