Nostalgia

A hot afternoon in a busy mall. The sound of people's voices buzzing as their footsteps shuffle past. Children running around, some screaming,but never too far away from their mothers' watchful eye. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a cafe; sweetness of freshly baked pastry rising in the cramped air. A few people have lit their cigarettes and somehow the smell doesn't bother you but creates a certain warmth mixed in with the rest of the scents in the building. It then carries your memories back to the airport when no one but the 'tourists',because that's how you knew them all those years ago, would be smoking one up. And it is from the airport that you remember receiving your father from a trip he had taken just a few days before. The excitement of an innocent and naive child amused by big planes and daily life occurrences that took place outside of her calmly home.

Home, where Saturday mornings meant doing laundry, and cleaning the house like it never saw a mop the rest of the week. Then the buzz died down and the afternoons were spent either going to the market or lazily watching TV.

A warm afternoon. A busy afternoon. A lazy afternoon. Everything happened in the afternoon.