Out on a walk one night to a part of my childhood that has changed so much in the years since I first walked down this stretch of town with my parents.
Walking past the old monuments and structures, I come across a set of LED sculptures of musicians. It's drizzling lightly and I can hear the haunting notes of a song Father used to play on his harmonica when I was younger.
Upon my return home, I looked up old photos and am astonished by how much the landscape has evolved over the decades.
And I wonder how much I have changed in those years. Would friends from my distant past still remember the things I remembered, the things we did.
A part of me recalls an essay written years ago of how Mother rekindled friendships of half-century old when she reconnected with her school friends, many of whom she had not seen in those years. And now I am almost at that stage of life and wonder where the years have gone and what I have realised since.
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