Upon entering my teenage life and exploring the side of reasons, I became less and less interested of various toys that I once considered to be fun. I noticed that drastic change as if it was a disorder that took over my system. I thought of it to be normal, a part of growth, but I was still curious of where all that childhood energy went into.

Is the change normal?

Or, did that energy go that bear I threw into abandonment when I was thirteen? Hmm. In fact, I had a dream about that teddy bear. A brown one with soft fur and big, black eyes. I was a different boy back then, wanting all those cute stuff to be with me, along my side.

My thinking was so simple in those days! I thought all I need is a bear. T'was funny, of course.

Bringing that bear at my back, I ran into the wilderness.

Wilderness? I whispered to myself.

It wasn't really a ferocious 'wilderness'.

It wasn't really big enough to compare with Amazon's, but it had snakes that bit a childhood friend of mine.

Moreover, it was the big grassy field owned by an old couple. They had coconut trees, but they could not afford workers to cut the bearings for them; thus, some vile people stole the fallen ones.

When the couple wasn't there, some of the neighboring kids would explore their lands, wandering around as if it was a great Jumanji forest.

However, now that I'm seventeen-year-old, the grasses grew taller. I just learned that the old couple died consecutively, year after year. Time really does fly. Isn't it?

Oh. I had a funny memory of a Sunday. I once feared The Gracious Mother Mary whenever I pray!

When I was young, I would almost beg my mother not to make me face this statue.

Her dull eyes were scary. The strangeness of her clothing, was more of a horror movie's nun. And those folded hands... shouted something that could echo into my hearing as if it was a clap that would haunt me at my sleep.

I fear her more than the parlor dandy.

I had to escape Mary, so I ran away.

I rode my good, older brother's bicycle. Yeah, you heard it right. Before bicycles became famous in pandemic, we had a bicycle. A black and big bicycle. Its tires were frequently oiled, for my brother did not know how to take care of such in his high school days.

Unfortunately, that "bicycle" was reduced to rust.

Below it, where the stray cats were fed daily, was a wet and stinky cemented ground that made it ugly through time. Despite its lack of a tire and dirt, it still stood somehow memorable to me, to everyone who rode it to drive away from Mary.

Mary isn't a bad person.
She's just too scary for a child.