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Last Saturday, we painted our house beige and pastel orange. It will be costly to hire painters so we did the painting by ourselves, me, my brother and a cousin. My mom and my aunt helped in preparing and disarranging the fixtures to ease our workload. While my pet dog, a minpin, constantly bark because we caged him.

My roller ran smoothly over the used to be mint green walls. As the paint covered the dirty walls, I found memories written over it. I was in highschool back then studying in a private school in Malate. I would wake up at 5:30 am and did those morning rituals, eating breakfast, taking a bath and wearing those preppy school uniforms. It would take about an hour of preparation before the school service would fetch me at home.

During those early years, I would stare blankly at those walls while churning my breakfast. My breakfast was usually something fried that I could also bring to school. My meals were redundant, fried chicken, hotdogs, omelettes, meat loafs, etc. The list was too short and I was tired eating them, imagine grinding the same meal during lunch which was also served during breakfast.

Those memories were now hidden under these layers of paint. The dirt caused by the street fumes was less visible as I put on layers and layers of paint. My rollers kept on running smoothly over the walls erasing all the marks of the past.

The painting was finished last Monday, details and all. The living room and the kitchen were brighter than ever. There were no more marks of dirts on the wall, but the memories would remain and lurk behind the fresh new paint.

“It’s a new house” I say, but no, it’s the same apartment we’re renting, covered and freshly painted.

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