The anticipation was great. I decided to take a trip down memory lane. It was all going fine. Not too many bumps in the road. Little bumps that I was able to go over with ease. As I began to go further back, I knew in order to be true in my sharing of the past, I needed to find my childhood diary. That is where I escaped to, writing and drawing in books which I worked so hard to hide — however, not always successfully.
I searched for my childhood secrets. Went into my closets, pulling out cartons in hopes of finding them. But each carton I pulled out was filled with other things, from old framed pictures to plaques and awards. I always think how wonderful it would be to have someone follow me around recording my life so it would not be lost. It was getting late and I was ready to give up. As I climbed up the ladder again to return one of the cartons, I noticed a box in the back. I reached in and managed to get it, almost dropping it as I carried it down and set it on my table. In black marker, it said on the back “Diaries”. I slit the tape and opened the box. There, inside was my diary stacked one on top of the other. I sat down and began reading every page of it.
All of a sudden, I found myself transitioning back to my childhood. My head started to hurt me and I felt my eyes welling up. Soon, I could not stop the tears from falling. I had gone back to a time that I wished had never happened, a time I was happy was in my long ago past. I felt brittle and sad and angry. I knew then that I had found what I needed to share with the world in order for them to experience what I had experienced.
A little throwback:
Don’t you wish you could go back and enjoy it all again? I bet you had loads of childhood memories right?
Burnt milk takes me back to my childhood; Too-eager-too-please late night hot chocolates
And nights when I fell asleep and had to be carried to bed.
If I was cheated of anything it was pretending to be
Asleep while someone you absolutely trust picks you up
And places you safe into your bed.
I always wanted to cook. I started off with eggs.
A family friend took me aside one morning
And told me that if I wasn’t going to do it right, I wouldn’t
Be allowed near the pan.
I learnt then that eggs do not enjoy falling from heights
Into too-hot frying pans
And that cracked yolks don’t taste as good.
I don’t think I’ve reached that high; not since I stopped
Cracking eggs above my head.
I don’t smoke because I find the memories too damaging to my lungs.
I think what I’m trying to say is I prefer my yolks broken, my milk burnt. =(
Yes, growing up is all this and yet more. It is the daily discovery of a whole new world, of perceiving new meanings in life, of encountering novel experiences and feelings that bring new colors to the landscape. It is that privileged stage of life when everything is so important and yet, nothing is important. Life is taken one day at a time.