The memories are still fresh to my mind: Daddy's cheesy wisecracks, Mommy's tender loving care, my 'adopted' big sis Freja's blinding smile & my liddo seestar Naina-slash-Kaiju's adorable bloopers. And even my apartment bears traces of them: the new furniture that Daddy got for me, the well-made bed that only Mommy could've possibly been able to do, the organised cabinets that I've no doubt sis Freja spearheaded, and the lemonade that my liddo Kaiju is known to chug on a regular basis. For a split-second, I find myself pining for them with near-melancholy. Then the ache ends just as quickly as it begins, as I come face to face with a beautiful epiphany---
The word "traces" echoes within the hollows of my soul. I just realised that my life is so blessed with traces: people who come into my life & leave bits of themselves as they move away, whether temporarily or permanently. They mark my life in ways that only they know how. Some in good ways, some in bad; always meaningfully, as long as I take the time to truly relish the moment, or even more time to reflect on it with the intention to seek further insights.
A trace is also a reminder that there's still something there. Someone there. Or something to hope for.
I hope I make a significant trace, too. To be able to make the people important to me stop in their tracks for a moment amid the busy hours of their day with the sudden comprehension that while we may be just traces in each other's lives at times, me being a trace means that I'm still here. Just waiting.
