If my mother had had the fantastic idea of teaching me to read instead of trying to teach me piano at the tender age of three or four, it would have been a complete success instead of the disappointment she suffered watching me pound the keys of the instrument.
Evidently she was carried away by her tastes instead of mine, because since I was little I was always exploring the bookshelves like a moth and looking at the photos and figurines they had printed... and I literally I droold my self to Want to read the enormous volume of a book that contained everything that existed in the universe: countries, legends, snakes, paintings, painters, inventions, poems, poets, architecture, Egyptian art, fauna from any country, ships, trees, islands, beaches... everything.
A book I still have, but time has stolen its cover. I don't know its name, but it's like an encyclopedia of random things.
This is my entry for the weekend engagement topics our host Galenkp always prepares for us.
What is your earliest childhood memory and why has it stayed with you?
It wouldn't be fair to talk about just one memory when the memory of them is still so vivid. And although there are many that I feel I'll never be able to recover, if I don't remember them all, it means they're not meaningful.
The love of a child is pure as a diamond.
How old was I during those events? I don't know, but to put it in "historical context," I wasn't in school, maybe I was in a daycare center for little kids, because I remember exactly how my mother, on my first day there (assuming I'd already adjusted), would sneak away from me while I ran away naked from the teacher with my daycare center gown tangled around my feet, screaming down the hall, following in the footsteps of my fugitive mother... ready to abandon her offspring to go to work... and I hated her like crazy the whole day.
Well, this is one of my first memories with tears in my eyes... I never managed to overcome that feeling of abandonment after so many kisses and cuddles.
A child just wants to be happy playing.
But something worse happened to me long before that. While playing in the doorway of my house with a ball (and someone else), the ball went over the railings down the street, and without thinking I rushed to catch it while a red Soviet Lada braked right on top of my small and scrawny body in time to avoid being fractured in two by the tires and the speed... I still remember my mother shaken by the news, her face transfigured with tears and the scolding she gave me in the form of thunderclaps.
Never ever take your eyes off a child...they have no control over their impulses.
Do you know what your child likes?
I also remember that every time I was taken to a doctor's office for anything, we had to wait patiently, sitting in a large room where there was a woman with a table selling books for all ages. And there I would timidly snoop around, examining the covers, the colors (remember I couldn't read yet, okay?), and the smell, because I loved that smell of cardboard, ink, and freshly printed paper. But one day I had a craving for a book. In front of me was a man dressed in black, riding a beautiful horse wearing a mask, an elegant hat, and a long, shiny cape that covered his entire body. Of course, it was Zorro.
The truth is, he bought it for me, but I took it with that incriminating phrase: "You still can't read, so why do you want that book?" Hmm... my grandma read it to me... and then I... and I still have that book.
After that my parents spent a fortune on books for me because they understood my great passion for reading.
A child needs many eyes on him.
Years later, I was about ten years old, and I had a car accident in front of my father, he had a red Russian Jeep and I had crossed the road to greet him, I climbed on the fender, and when I got out and turned around in the same place, a sidecar that was passing at that same moment hit me dragging me under it several meters along the street.
Burns, a broken collarbone, and several blows to the head left me in a hospital bed for several days... I was confined to a cast for several months, plaster that I had to break several times due to the extreme heat inside. I would make small holes in it that allowed me to insert objects to relieve my itching... and the day they changed it, my mother would take the opportunity to wash me and powder me with guava powder and anything else that would help combat the heat rash. It was uncomfortable, yes.
Even today, I continue to be very cautious on the roads... learning to be careful in places that can be extremely dangerous.
A moment of happiness.
But not all are bad moments, I have saved a relief painting of a wall decoration that my parents bought, I was very young but I remember that we walked through a fair during a very nice carnival, and they saw it on a table and they liked it a lot. It felt good as a daughter, to realize that my parents loved each other at that time, they got along and shared a million interests and tastes regardless of having a daughter.
It is then a memory that comes to my mind every time I stand in front of the painting, because despite the time it continues to be something sacred to me.
It's good to relive these memories, to travel back in time and feel the voices of yesteryear, the smells of that era, the laughter, and the feeling that comes with each one of them. It's good to NOT FORGET, and to remember all the lessons these stories teach us.
"...But I didn't tell you the story about the black-necked lizards, and I think it's better to save it for next time..."
Always very grateful for your reading.
The text is entirely my own
All photos are my property
Translation done with Deep Translate, free versión
