And He Wrote Me A Love Letter

I definitely recommend scheduling room clean-up from time to time. Fluff back the dust on those inner corners, wipe those old awards back to their good ol’ shiny state, and pile stuff into their proper neatness. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but finishing always give me a rewarding feeling. Not only do you get a clean & pristine room as a result (an organized room is always a treat for the senses), you get to find stuff that bring back floods of memories for you.

Like this:

I was never the child who received gifts from my parents when my birthday came around the corner. Yes, I had one of the best birthday parties in the block during my under-10 years (I have the photo albums to prove it! Photo albums are so priceless nowadays), but they never gave me gifts. Other people gave me wonderful gifts, always appropriate for me, but never my parents.

I don’t remember this having any negative effect on me growing up or giving me traumatic chuchu, but I understand how this would affect certain people. All I remember is thinking, I don’t mind, but it would be certainly nice to get something from them. 🙂

Then on my 13th or 14th (weird that I can’t remember the exact year), my dad gave me this card. It was simple, what others would scoff at as “card lang?”  But I loved it. I didn’t cry or anything, but I loved it. Most importantly, I knew that it came from my dad’s heart. After all, sincerity is what makes a gift. After years of giving gifts and receiving them, that was what I learned.

Pa, I love you. 🙂 I saw a picture on Facebook today (wink wink) and got so inspired that I’ll make it a tribute to you. Bwahaha.

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