Today I ate French fries with my mom, and for a moment I was 6 again — there was a hotel called Shark Inn my family used to frequent, when my father was still around, we always ordered fries.
Shark Inn was the heart of my childhood. There was always live music playing, my mom liked. My birthdays were celebrated there every year — lots of gifts piled up, I would count down the day, excited.
But a month before I turned 7, something shifted. From what I got to know, my parents had a fight about something and i never got to celebrate my birthday there again. I've gone there for the last time after my parents separated.
I remember the water fountain hidden at the back, my secret spot to show other kids, and the cave with a temple inside. Those corners felt like magic for the little, like the whole place was keeping a part of my childhood safe.
Eating fries today, It leads to a bittersweet memory lane — the kind that makes your chest ache in a good way. I smiled and talked about it with my mom. The memory stayed with me long after, Little me with my family at Shark Inn.
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