Nicholas E.

Orogo 9-Milano English

Nostalgic Field

When I smell a certain floral scent, even it’s a place or an object; it remembers me of a
flower field that is very special in my childhood. I’ve never visited that field in years, and yet I
don’t have time and to visit it.

“Dad!” my son, Dave, called me excitedly. “What is it son?” I asked. The time was almost
bedtime; we were at my bedroom, Dave is playing with his toys and I am lying on my bed,
reading my novel, I was surprised that he called me; Dave is a type of kid that will mind his own
while enjoying with his toys.

“Out of my curiosity, what is the field of flowers on the picture in your picture frame?”
Dave asked curiously while he is pointing the picture on the drawer. I didn’t expect that he would
ask that kind of question, kids are really curious these days. “Well son, I’m glad you asked, it’s
not just a decoration in my bedroom, but also it is a real place where I lived when I was young. I
have this picture because it is the only picture that I can only find about that place, and it is very
important place to me.” I answered gently.

I remembered me and my mother would go to that field of roses to play. Sometimes, I

get scratch while playing there because of the thorns of roses, and my mother will aid my
scratches gently, she always advise me that don’t go very near at those flowers. My mother
would even go to the fields to trim the pricks of the flowers every week. Now I can play and run
around the fields. The wind at the fields was so fresh and very chilly; I rarely get sweats while
running because of the fresh wind around the fields. Our house is not big, little bit small but we
are only three living inside the house, my mother, father and me. We were living in a simple life.

“Can you tell me why this field of roses special for you? This place is beautiful!” Dave
asked while looking thoroughly on the picture. “This field of roses is my family’s wealth; the field
was created by my father and my mother is the one who is selling flowers in the market. He said
that rose is his favorite flower, and it is special for him, but he neither told me why rose is
special for him nor I ask him. That field is where I found my pet rabbit, Sunny.” I answered.

“Wow, how’d you made him your pet?” Dave asked. “I remembered, I and my father go
around the field of roses, and suddenly we found a hole, where my pet Sunny was in there. I got
hyped and tried to grab him but he bit my hand. My father backs me up away from the rabbit.
Every day, I always go to that hole and I keep bringing foods for him. That’s where my father
noticed why the foods are getting lesser and lesser until he caught me feeding the rabbit in the
middle of the night. He got furious and he beat me. He said that never waste food, but I thought
for myself that those foods were never wasted, that rabbit might starve to death, who knows?
Good old me, never knew that a rabbit is an herbivore. Ha! Good memories from that field ages
like fine wine.” I told him gladly. “And I even met my first love, your mother.” I added. “Wow that
is very cool! Tell me how you met my mother.” He asked gladly. “That is it for now on my story,
it’s getting late. Better sleep early, you have school tomorrow.” I said politely. “Oh man! I wish I
could hear more.” Dave said. “Well I’ll tell more tomorrow.” I said. “Goodnight, sleep well.” I said
gently while tucking him on bed. I gave him kiss on his cheek and he kissed me on my cheek. I
turned the lights off and close the door gently.

My memories on that field shaped me as a person, I am me what I am today. I knew that

my father’s field will be gone, and it was. But I want to cherish those memories by going to that
field, planning that I and my family will go out and travel to that field, but it will never work now,
because it’s gone. I realized that cherishing memories doesn’t mean you must go and
experience those memories you want to cherish. Even though that field is gone, it doesn’t mean
that memories will be gone too. I felt happy again. All the anxiety, are gone when I started to tell
my story to my son, Dave. This nostalgic feeling is getting me, and I like it. Tomorrow, which of
my story will I tell to Dave?