The Bookshelf and Other Ghosts

I went home last friday and my mother gave me a surprise: a bookshelf.

Certain memories came back. The black boots, the jumper and the first megamall trip. Childhood things I wanted but never had and even if I can have them now the feeling will not be the same anymore.

The minute I saw my new bookshelf,Ifelt as if I had all those things I wanted the very moment I wanted them. Okay, so maybe I'm going a bit overboard. But childish happiness has always been a big thing for me.

My new bookshelf is not new. In fact, it is pretty much worn out (c/o the medical student who once owned it). But hey, i like the shabby chic look. So there it was, nostalgia standing between me and the 3foot wide,four-layered shelf.

Now, it is inside my room. I can't help but arrange and rearrange my books in it and think about filling the empty spaces in the near future. And with that, I vowed to myself that this will not add up to the growing list of my post-childhood frustrations.