I wanted to walk to the river today – walk on the old railway tracks making my way through the shrubs and the trees to get to my secret spot by the river I used to go to. Instead, I stopped at the park on my way there. It was cold so the park was completely deserted. No kids around here today. And I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. A cute park like this always looks familiar: long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water. But most of all, like golden eternities of past childhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago. The clouds, as they passws overhead seemws to testify to this feeling.
Sadly, I don’t remember much of my childhood, but there are certain things that strike out for sure. For instance, I remember I wouldn’t share my ice-cream. I liked ice-cream and I was very greedy about it. I would share everything else but not ice-cream. And I remember that once while we were playing in the neighborhood, he ran me over with his bike. Something hit me by the eye as I fell and I couldn’t see much for the next few days. My mom wanted to kill him. I can still picture his bright red face with a horrified expression when he stood by the door as the doctor took a look at me.
He taught me how to make paper boats. That was probably the most frustrating thing he had to do because somehow I would always fold the paper the wrong way and end up making a paper-bird out of the thing rather than a boat. He was patient with me, I recall.
And I remember the time when we used to go and eavesdrop on adult conversations. Half the time we didn’t even know why but it was exciting, so we did it.
We used to have playful fights all the more often. The other guys would make fun of him - “You-got-beat-up-by-a girl?!” Now that I look back at it, I know there was no way I could have tackled him down. He’d let me win.
I remember that whenever I ran into my teacher or librarian at the grocery store or Wal-mart, it was just so startling, because it never occurred to me that they existed outside of school!
I remember those long summer nights when we’d go out and catch fire-flies. I still feel that rush of excitement that came every time my mom would let me go out in the park to catch some fireflies at dusk.
I was accident prone. I broke quite a few bones when I was child – twisted an ankle, fractured a knee, bruised my head countless times. I’d cry so much then. Now, I wish I could cry like that again.
Childhood was good. Broken bones were so much better than broken hearts.
