Blast from the past

I was in bed a few nights ago, seconds away from falling asleep. Then suddenly, I found myself in the bedroom my sister and I used to share when we were little. There was a single bed on the left hand side of the rectangle-shaped room. Across it, a brown study desk. I was sitting on the floor in between, and so was my sister. I was playing with one of those toys that taught children to recognize shapes. There was a red plastic cube box whose six sides were adorned with cut-outs of shapes. A square, a rectangle, a circle, an octagon, a crescent moon, and a star.

The door opened and in poked my parents' heads. My mother spoke and I looked up.

"We are leaving now, so grandma will stay with you tonight, is that okay, dears?" I didn't know where they were going and I didn't ask. My sister might have said something to them, though I was too busy with my toy to pay attention.

The door closed and not long after, the front gate creaked open, letting out my dad's car, and creaked back closed. I wasn't aware of it then, but it was the last night that I was the youngest child in the house. The date was October 8th, 1985.

My dad came home the next day, my mum a few days after. More than eight thousand days have come and gone since then, including the day my grandmother left and never returned.

Funny how randomly the brain picks which memory to surface.