† HomesickEric †

- you can press anywhere on the blank space to close -

A Morning Spent Remembering Add comment

Saturday, January 24, 2026@January 24, 2026

Writing this at 05:41 this morning, 24 January 2026, back home in Malaysia. That’s right, the holiday has ended, and somehow work has already restarted as if nothing ever paused. I came back to it yesterday, slipped back into routine almost too smoothly. I slept early last night, the kind of sleep that comes when your body is done negotiating, and woke up before the sun without trying. Now the washing machine hums beside me. I’m doing laundry.

I haven’t done laundry since last year. And that sounds dramatic when written down, but it’s true in the most ordinary way. When I arrived, I actually thought I should let last year’s clothes sit for a while longer. Not out of laziness, but intention. I wanted to remember the last time I wore them, the places they were with me, the version of myself that existed when the fabric still smelled like another country, another routine. I’ve always done this. I let the past linger just a little longer before I say goodbye.

It’s the same reason I brought back small, almost meaningless things from my workplace. Trinkets that don’t really deserve shelf space. Things I know I’ll eventually throw away, or burn, or lose to time. But not yet. I want to live those moments again for a few more minutes. Let them breathe. Let myself remember how they entered my life before they quietly exit it.

When I hold them, I try to recall when I bought them, how long they stayed with me. Some of them have been around since 2024. I replay the day I picked them up, the mood I was in, the version of the world I was walking through back then. I remind myself how many small adventures happened while these objects existed alongside me, even when I wasn’t paying attention to them. Even when I was elsewhere.

I tell myself all the usual things. That living in the past is pointless. That I should focus on what’s in front of me, or what’s coming next. And maybe that’s true. But this is just who I am. I like remembering. Especially now, when time feels like it’s accelerating without asking for permission. Days collapse into weeks. Years fold into each other so neatly it’s frightening.

So I memorise what I can. The small things. The ordinary ones. A shirt, a plastic bag, a can of hairspray, a morning like this. Because maybe memory isn’t about refusing to move forward. Maybe it’s just my way of making sure I was actually there.

Labels: motivation

Older Post