The parcel came in a blue plastic ware. In the container is a precious cargo — my memories.I never had a lot of things and never kept much owing to the fact that I live faraway, move places, and I feel unattractive in pictures. My footprint is at a bare minimum.But tonight, as I finally open the box, everything came flooding back.I have come a long way and this was the only thing that was able to capture snapshots of a life that was mine.It’s a U135DX, a deceptively mean name for a second generation netbook. In it were fragments of some years ago I held (some I still hold) dear.This is my own version of Edith Tiempo’s Bonsai.Browsing through old files, I find myself profusely wiping tears. I found few pictures with family and friends and of places that meant something to me. There were also college essays, discographies of artists I never outgrew (Bob Dylan, Train, Sara Bareilles, John Mayer, The Corrs, and Kate Nash).The little girl in me painstakingly opened each folder as if they were doors to unknown places. How can it be unfamiliar when it is a part of me?All these things are coming back just as I was peeking through an old life that was familiar then. Like a voyeur, I thoroughly enjoyed and at the same time winced guiltily at opened memories.I was reliving a distant time.I was skipping again towards my first class.  The fallen leaves from the acacia were following me, so is the wind.With a carefully chosen first-day getup consisting of the best slip-ons bought from a second-hand store, a hand-me-down pair of jeans and blouse that my mother ironed and packed snugly in the suitcase, and finally a sling bag,  I was all set. I was skipping, smiling, and humming my way to a new beginning.So much has changed since and I never regret looking back at that perky girl excited to meet the world.I can only hope I am becoming what I had hoped to be.