My memories of Sumilon Island go way back.
All the way back.
When time was on my side and I was naive enough to believe that everyone I loved would live forever.
My niece, Aeva, at three years old feeding the fishes with leftover bread in the green lagoon when she wasn't eating it herself.
My dad... alive and healthy.
It's my memories of him, most of all, that just tugs at me, you know. It catches at the back of my throat and then assaults my eyes.
Perry Como playing in the background doesn't exactly help my cause.
New memories on top of old ones. Burying one above another. A fragile evidence that once upon a time, we were all there and it was all real.
That's how it is, isn't it? You move on and you try your best to make a new set of happy memories to live by. New additions to the family are welcomed and celebrated.
The following photos are from five years ago. Raven was the same age as Aeva was. My dad was still alive but he was already very sick.
A day trip.
We didn't stay the night as we had to catch the bus later that afternoon to spend my birthday with my dad the next day. There was nowhere I would much rather be, no matter how pretty the island was.
Raven might not remember this time anymore but that's what my blogging is here for: to activate her core memories and remind her of how blessed she is to enjoy all these experiences even at such an early age.
Also, to activate her cringe reflex at the sight of her mum and dad's cheesy photoshoot at the beach the same way it activated mine.
"But that's us, boo," Jeff said. "Nothing cringe about it."
He was right.
But, still.
Anyway, don't say I didn't warn you.
*Raven at 3 years old
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