Time keeps moving, always. And most of the time, it keeps us moving too. The days may have passed, but the memories still last. Problems came and went, people too. Yet, when I look back, those days that once felt so heavy to face now feel so light to remember.

The guiding lights I miss the most are “the days with friends.” And for that, the one I should thank is my school the place that taught me, shaped me, and gave me the most precious gift I hold even today: friends.

We began as strangers, with nothing more than a small “Hi.” But today, those talks go on endlessly, as if they were never meant to stop. That was the beauty of school life packed with emotions, dazzling, sparkling, unforgettable.

Still, somewhere along the way, time stole those old charms. The on-time submissions, the daily deadlines, the homework completions, and the endless exams. The quarrels with friends, the punishments that felt both painless and painful kneeling down, doing squats, or even getting hit with a wooden ruler. The awkwardness of sitting next to the opposite gender. Back then, even before we could understand what life truly was, it had already begun. It ran, it flew minute by minute.

Those minutes became my school days. I can still see the long queues, one behind another. The morning assemblies where our voices joined together in the national anthem. The daily inspections nails trimmed, homework completed. Those days were filled with countless little checkpoints that shaped us without us even realizing it.

And how I wish I could cling back to them. To the noise of our classrooms  so loud that even our teachers would shout, “Is this a fish market?!” To the lunch breaks where we shared food from different homes and different moms, every box carrying something new and delicious. Lunch was never just food; it was a memory in itself, and it always left us longing for the next break.

And then there was the PT period—the most awaited hour of the day. Faces would fall in disappointment when we found out that a maths or science teacher had taken it instead. PT was rare, but it was pure joy. Running, laughing, playing, and sometimes pretending to “practice match fast” those were golden moments.

The playground too holds countless memories. Every corner of it still echoes with our laughter, every spot remembers the touch of our feet. Back then, we truly flew—without wings. And now, though the days are gone, the timeless memories remain.