"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
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Maeva's point of view.
After what feels like an eternity spent roaming the streets, and interacting with random towners, we finally make it into our neighborhood; and boy does it feel good to be back! The moment our car rolls in between the lines of oak proudly guarding the borders of the street, we find ourselves sheltered from the piercing sunrays and engulfed in a cool atmosphere that screams "Home Sweet Home". Gentle breezes of air caress my burning cheeks and faint bird chirping resonates in my ears as I close my eyes and enjoy the welcoming ceremony.
Nothing has really changed, from the houses to the roads and the overall ambiance; everything still looks as though I never left. Now I might sound like a ninety-year-old retiree, but I've never been a fan of change. I'd much rather do the same exercise every day, listen to one song for an entire month, and even wear the same fragrance for the rest of my life.
'That screams cowardice if you ask me.'
No one asked you, conscience! It's not that I'm afraid of exploring new things, plunging into the unknown or whatever motivational nonsense people keep throwing at me. I just take my time to find things that I love, and when I do, I never let them go. Take Caramel for example...
'You mean that old and ugly onesie with sprinkles and a cherry on its hat?'
It may be old, but it's my lucky slash comfy ice cream themed onesie. Nana bought it for me, and now I'd wear it whenever something's not going according to plans.
'It has at least ten holes in it, for crying out loud!'
I do not care, stupid conscience! Just because something's been worn out with time doesn't mean I'll give up on it. It's called loyalty, in case you're not aware of the technical term.
'Loyalty and obnoxious onesie cannot be featured in the same sentence without having the word WEIRD popping out! I mean, it's...'
Ignoring whatever nonsense my conscience was rambling about in the back of my head, I take a good look out of the window when the car comes to a stop in front of a familiar garage. The same old plumeria shades on us, and the blissful scent of its immaculate flowers does not go unnoticed. Scanning its chipped off trunk as I get off the vehicle, a wide grin finds its way to my lips when I spot the letters M and A engraved on it. Although I almost lost an eye when mom threw her slipper at me for hurting her beloved tree, I cannot help but sigh fondly at the memory of teenager me naively carving my initials on a tree after reading a little too much romance novels.
''You, young lady, are grounded for an entire year.'' Mom snaps at me, hands firmly gripping on her hips and eyes scorching my skin and soul. I'm literally just standing and looking at a tree. How on earth could I have gotten myself in trouble? I'm in no position to be arguing with anyone, though, so I better not ask.
