Guess I'm not the fighting kind.
More than two decades alive on this planet, and I cannot remember a single thing from my early days.
The human brain is a wonderful thing, is it not?
It makes you remember things that you do not want to remember: the time when you were sent off to the principal’s office for breaking the rules; a five-year-old girl’s rejection to your affections; the slimy touch of a huge, white caterpillar that somehow settled on your toes while you were out chasing butterflies in the garden.
Embarrassingly enough, I still remember how I fell and scrapped my knees in the process – it happened quite a number of times when I was in primary school, actually. Near the drain right outside the classroom during a light drizzle, just as the bell rang (to the horror of a teacher). Another time, turning turtle when the other kids went rowdy as they rushed to get onto the school bus first.
Well, I was not exactly the clumsy type, but… Ahem. You see, kids trip over themselves sometimes.
At least we are still capable to have some desirable events forever etched in memory: the feeling of utmost satisfaction upon edging out your competitors to being first in class for the third year running; a vacation that includes a full-day outing in Disneyland in another continent; the first time you cuddled next to a loved one under a cool, starry night.
Life dictates that we accumulate and collect our adventures, misfortunes, lessons, tears. Our firsts, and lasts.
And remember them well we shall – although some will inevitably slip through, lapsing into eternal nothingness.
Now that I have National Geographic happening right in our own garden… pictures are posted up on Flickr.
When they have grown and flown away to build families of their own, I wonder if will they still remember the amusing antics of a tiny group of curious humans who seemed to always peek intrusively from behind the curtains and feed them sliced fruits occasionally.