I had an interesting childhood (more so than my life right now) so I’d like to share some stories:
- I was going to kindergarten with my helper once. On the way we passed by this old industrial building, which, if I remember correctly, was literally in flames. There was fire everywhere and black smoke. I’m not very sure if it’s just a figment of my imagination, but where it used to be, now stands a new housing building.
- I used to play in the playground every afternoon. My favourite activity was swinging on the monkey bars, or dangling down from bars which led you up to an elevated platform. (I usually proceeded to do a 360 turn to get down) So y’know how kids are. Any child under the age of 7 can get along with one another perfectly fine. So this girl appears and kind of befriends me. I don’t remember her quite well, but some feelings stick with you for a long time, so what I do remember is that this girl was showing off on the monkey bars because she was a gymnast or something. Then she falls off the bar, and bites down on her tongue. Her mouth was gushing with blood and tears were streaming down her face when her helper carried her home. … I remember watching her without a feeling of guilt or sympathy… (I’m actually not a very nice person at heart…)
- This one’s not really a story but maybe an insight on how much little things in childhood have affected me today:
I was obsessed with the very first anime I ever watched. It was Tokyo Mew Mew. Now that I look at it, the body proportions are a bit off and the animation is just ‘eh’ overall, but as a child, I was in love with it. I wanted to be mysterious and cool like the tall purple-haired girl. I loved the bright colours and how they each tied in with an element or food. I think this is the root of why I like matching colours with personalities and elements, and I like colour coordination in outfits. (My aunt bought me those paper cutout dolls. I, or someone older and more organised, kept the loose bits in a Ziploc bag so the tinier accessories wouldn’t be lost.)
- I went to kindergarten at a place close to my home. So did half of those kids there. For some reason (I really don’t remember how it happened) I was best friends with a boy who lived literally two buildings next to mine. As a child, I was very fortunate in the sense my dad would always be free to pick me up after a short day of school. Most of the time, along with his car, he’d bring a brown paper bag of those wonderfully Hong Kong egg waffles (鸡蛋仔) and my best friend and I would share it on the ride home. That was, until my dad noticed that he really liked it, too, so then he started picking us up with two paper bags. (To this day, 鸡蛋仔 is still a childhood comfort food)
- On days my dad didn’t pick me up from kindergarten, my helper would. We’d walk home via underpasses and through the subway stations. I still live in the same area now, so every time I take that pathway (… which is not often, because I have no need to go to the kindergarten anymore…) I remember the times my helper let me sit on the escalator going down, because I was, like, 3, and 3-year-olds are allowed to sit on escalator steps because they have short legs and tire out easily.
- I saved my favourite for last:
Kids wake up at the crack of dawn. At least, I did. It was this glorious and forbidden time to be awake. I got to see more of the world, finding out more about what goes on when I’m usually asleep. I also got to see more of the house. I crept out of the bedroom and made sure to turn the doorknobs slow and close the door quietly, before running around the house. At that age, there was this dog hype, so there was this notepad around the house. Each piece was designed differently, with a different breed of dog sitting in a corner. I probably thought it would be fun if I wrote something on it and stuck them up on doors, so I did. (Seriously, though, imagine it. A tiny lil kid trotting around the house and putting things as high up as she can, but to the three, much taller adults in the same living area, it’s only about waist height. How adorable.) I still have that pad of paper, and I’m keeping it as a memento instead of using it. It’s way too precious to be written on.
Looking back at my baby photos, I really wish I could remember half of what happened. (Or that I could be able to hold myself and watch myself grow up) Time flies by quick.