My childhood

Growing up seemed to take such a long time when I was young. I wanted to race through school and join the workforce. But now I miss the good old times.

I stayed with my dear grandmother when I was small. Radio blasted hits of the 80s as my aunts got ready for work early in the morning. I can recall their routine clearly as if it was yesterday. The smell of breakfast awakened the sleeping (I was the only one still in bed of course), marking the start of another new day. My first meal of the day was usually half boiled eggs, bread, ham or biscuits.

Emptied of adults other than my grandmother, the house was quiet. Too quiet sometimes, all I heard was the sound of the grandfather clock. Sunshine sprayed through the glass roof in the kitchen on sunny days, brightening up the entire kitchen and the bedroom grandmother shared with me. I used to play by myself in the mornings (yes, I didn’t need much babysitting), making up stories as I go along on a daily basis. Somehow I was rarely in the kitchen before lunch (porridge or fried rice and Chinese tea, accompanied by story telling on the radio). Afternoons were normally spent in the kitchen with my grandmother, preparing dinner. Food had to be on the table piping hot sharp at 6pm, so she started immediately after lunch. I was not incredibly helpful other than keeping her company at the dining table as a chatterbox, but I managed to help with the simpler tasks such as peeling garlic and onions, as well as prepping the vegetables.

As the working returned home after a long hard day in the office, the house became noisy and filled with life once more. Alone no more, I was once again showered with attention.

The twins, though the latest addition to the family, are growing up oh-so quickly. We peered through the windows in the hospital, went jewelry shopping for their full moon, then got excited over their first birthday. Now they are off to pre-school, and doing a whole lot of stuff. I hope they will enjoy their childhood like I did, and still be able to remember in years to come.

Aiden and Andes, make your childhood counts. Always remember those who had walked down the path with you, even for very short miles.