…the year I turned 13

Some memories are easier to allay in written words, some are kept within the images of what it was then that make us feel nostalgic even when living in the now.

The year I turned 13 in the refugee camp, these cosmos cheered me up when I longed to be home; and home was Vietnam.

And now these cosmos swaying beautifully in the front yard of my now-home, half a world apart from the then-home where I grew up. However, as I look at these cosmos now, I just want to go back to that home I once lived when I turned 13 — the refugee camp.

Some memories are just stuck with you forever.


5 thoughts on “…the year I turned 13

  1. Nhỏ này, khi biệt tích thì mấy tuần lễ hổng thấy bóng dáng. Giờ xuất hiện rồi sẵn “xuất bản” luôn một loạt bài, làm tui chạy theo đọc …..đã luôn nè 😉 😀 😀

    Thích mấy loại hoa cánh bướm (cosmo) này nè, nhìn dịu dàng, nhẹ nhàng, đơn sơ heng!

    1. it is, indeed.

      It’s the feeling every displaced individual would have. There is always a longing for a place in our memory.

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