Ever opened an old book and been greeted by that old, musty smell that ushers in a truckload of memories?

A while ago, I picked up my very old copy of Chimamanda Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun, and suddenly this rush of memories came flooding in. This piece took form in the days that followed, as I flipped page after page, basking afresh in the moments of the story. I was catapulted back to 2011-the first time I read the book, as a junior student in boarding school, going through life in its unique way, with all of its joys and trials.

Back then, books were my world: African fiction, Shakespeare, and foreign texts occasionally. Little wonder I excelled, especially in Literature, which would eventually form the foundation of my writing journey. Soaking in the smell of the book, which hadn’t changed at all in 13 years, took me back to those little joys that have clung to my heart through the years and helped shape my identity today.

I realized I needed to remember these details, which so easily get lost in the daily grind of “adulting.” These little joys have the power to make the world rewind for a moment and transport you back to a time when life was really as simple as a short school play, a family trip to the village or even a hangout with friends.

Of course, we can’t live exactly as we did back then, but I think pausing to remember those memories can truly help ease the daily weights that come with being an adult.