Today’s a slightly happier day, so I thought I should remember today.

What better way than to write it down, with heavy eyelids, wet hair, while clad in star-print pyjamas with my feet in fuzzy slippers?

The bed beckons. I should turn in. But I want to hold on to today a bit longer, because tomorrow’s a new day of new worries and new panic moments flooding in while I try to finally start on my essay and preparations for Monday.

It reminds me of the good old Sunday nights oh-so-long ago, where I’d sit and get ready my pencilcase, put my exercise books into my gaudy SWAN backpack, and sneakily hide all the homework I didn’t do (only to be discovered when I got into trouble at school and warranting a call from my teacher to my father – was that the reason now? I don’t remember really) while father sat at the foot of the staircase and clipped away at his nails and mother sang away upstairs as she ironed my little dark blue pinafore.

Sometimes I miss those days.

Sometimes I don’t look back.