When I was nineteen, my life changed forever. I know that there are people who wonder about me when I say this. They look at me strangely as if trying to fathom what could have happened back the, though I seldom bother to explain. Because I've lived here for most of my life, I don't feel that I have to unless its on my own terms, and that would make more time than most people are willing to give me. My story can't be summed up in two or three sentences; it can't be packaged into something neat and simple that people would immediately understand. Despite the passage of time of one year, the people who knew me that time accept my lack of explanation without question. I relive that time more often in my mind, bringing it back to life, and realize that when I do, I always feel a strange combination of sadness and joy. There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock, but I have the feeling that if I did, the joy would be gone as well. So I take the memories as they come, accepting them all, letting them guide me whenever I can. This happen more often than I let on.
It is January 12, 2010, and as I enter the gate of our house, I glance around. The sky is overcast and gray, but as I move down the door, I noticed that everything about my life had changed. The temperature was warm, though I know it's only a matter of time before it will settle in to something comfortable and the night skies filled with stars. With a sigh, I feel it all coming back to me. I close my eyes and the days begin to move in reverse, slowly ticking backward, like the hands of a clock rotating in the wrong direction. As if through someone else's eyes, I watch myself grow a little, just a little, younger. Lessons I've learned within the past 19 years grow dimmer, and my innocence returns as that eventful year approaches.
Then like me, the world begins to change: the overflowing people were replaced by furnitures from our home in the Philippines. At the side table near my desk, overlooking the beautiful sunrise from Manila Bay, my phone began to ring...
I open my eyes and pause. I rose from my bed and went directly towards the bathroom. As I stare at the life-size mirror along the way, I know exactly who I am. My name is Jhon Francis Yu, and I'm nineteen years old.
This is my story and I promise to leave nothing out.
First you will smile, and then you will cry - don't say you haven't been warned.
It is January 12, 2010, and as I enter the gate of our house, I glance around. The sky is overcast and gray, but as I move down the door, I noticed that everything about my life had changed. The temperature was warm, though I know it's only a matter of time before it will settle in to something comfortable and the night skies filled with stars. With a sigh, I feel it all coming back to me. I close my eyes and the days begin to move in reverse, slowly ticking backward, like the hands of a clock rotating in the wrong direction. As if through someone else's eyes, I watch myself grow a little, just a little, younger. Lessons I've learned within the past 19 years grow dimmer, and my innocence returns as that eventful year approaches.
Then like me, the world begins to change: the overflowing people were replaced by furnitures from our home in the Philippines. At the side table near my desk, overlooking the beautiful sunrise from Manila Bay, my phone began to ring...
I open my eyes and pause. I rose from my bed and went directly towards the bathroom. As I stare at the life-size mirror along the way, I know exactly who I am. My name is Jhon Francis Yu, and I'm nineteen years old.
This is my story and I promise to leave nothing out.
First you will smile, and then you will cry - don't say you haven't been warned.
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