The sky was painted in a wash of blue watercolor reminiscent of my faded summer jeans. The wind carried the essence of my mother’s misty perfume, and the ground textured like the sands of San Juan La Union beach, where my brother would chase me away—nostalgic.

My tummy churns at the familiar embrace of nostalgia. That’s odd.

Why must this sudden rush of memories occur in the most unexpected hours, in a place I can't recollect ever setting foot upon?

"Are you new here?" A woman by the corner of an old, empty building inquired. Startled, I swiftly turned to face her.

"I don't even know how I got here," I confessed. My confusion evident and mirrored in my furrowed brows.

Her forehead creased, like the F-marked test papers I used to crumple and hide from my mother. After a brief pause, she subtly smiled, as though she had finally connected the dots. 

"I see. If you're uncertain about getting home, just keep walking, and you'll find your way," she advised with polite assurance.

And so, I did. With each step, the world around me turned into a complete peculiarity. The towering buildings of the once-grimy city streets dissipated like dust, memories surged into my mind like the construction of a new road, and the sensation of my skin became weightless as if I were on the most potent trip of my life.

Sensations cascaded over me like a symphony of emotions as the strings in my heart engaged in a tumultuous tug-of-war. Happiness intertwined with sadness, a desire to cry mingled with excitement, and waves of distress, fear, and confusion crashed in unison. 

Until—”Tiffany!”

I heard my aunt Evangeline's scream echo throughout our cobble-stoned porch. Excitement arose among all of my emotions as I hurried inside my home. However, what awaited me surpassed a mere warm welcome.

What I assumed to be a birthday-like surprise turned out to be the first opportunity I got to learn what they call an “epiphany”.

You think a bad day was the worst until you find yourself going home, with your family sitting patiently on the couch of your favorite living room, only to discover that you’re—

“Dead,” My shoulders dropped at the realization.

“I’m dead.”

-Wyan Mendez

(Illustration by Mary Nicole Halili/FEU Advocate)