This is my entry for nonfiction prompt #7: GROWING UP
**
Source
**
In my mind’s eye, the picture of our old nipa house froze like it was meant to be there for good.
That house was built in December. In the province where I grew up, it is believed that if a house was built in that month, it would always be a happy home. And I couldn’t disagree with it because ever since we moved in that house, after living with our grandmother for a year, my childhood years had been nothing but blissful.
We used to always have visitors at home, my siblings’ friends mostly—I only have a few, and there they would play for hours. My mother also had some close friends over to chat with her. Likewise, my father would ask some relatives to come and visit, while I would always hide in my “Me- Zone.” It was the same as an attic, where I could be myself, drawing, if not reading books.
Spending most of my days in my zone, especially during vacation and the rainy season, had given me the peace of mind an eight-year-old child could ever wish for. There I started dreaming of who I wanted to be when I grow up.
**
Rainy days had always been my favorite days because the pattering raindrops on our rooftop would play a soothing melody that sang to me, inspiring me to keep doing my hobbies. The warm scent of soil wetted by the rain lingered in my nostrils and made me feel the embrace of nature, getting us closer.
Those days were old but good.
Growing up in a house with a caring, as well as supportive, mother and a loving father who never once forget to lecture us about how harsh life could be felt like I won the lottery. He would call us, my siblings and me, to gather at the table because he had something to say. But that “something” wasn’t really some mere thing; they were life lessons and reminders of how we should always be resilient despite life’s difficulties.
He would remind the three of us—that time our youngest brother wasn’t born yet—to always stick to each other’s side no matter what happens, especially when the time comes that our parents would have to leave the earth.
We were told to protect and love each other. He would remind us of the value of education, and that we must study well because education is a treasure that no one can steal from us. He would remind us to be good to others, even though ‘others’ could hurt us.
Growing up in that house with loving parents was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity only the fortunate children could have. And I must admit, I was and will always be blessed because our parents were the ones given by the heavens to us.
Those nighttime talks with our father molded us to be who we are now. Without his words of wisdom, we might’ve been astray with no sense of life direction. I will always be grateful to our parents because they’ve filled us with love. It was because of them that our bond as siblings is getting stronger despite the tests of time. Our individual growth has rooted in our parents' undying love, even though both have already been resting for a while now.