The Memory Box

9. My Memory Box

My Memory Box

        Anonymous

The lights turn on and the curtains open. I present to you my memory box: a treasury of my life’s events. I will open it to share it with you.

Let me tell you my story. It was February 4, 2000, around seven in the morning at St. Luke’s Medical Center that I was born. My parents were thinking what name to give me. One was Stephen, others were Benjamin and Andrei. But they decided to call me David Lenard, which means “Tender Warrior.”

          Fast forward. Year 2003. I remember when I was little (I think I was three-years-old that time). I sneaked into my parents’ room while they were sleeping. I played with my alphabet cubes. I made a little tower out of them. Another time, I played with my sister, Hannah. We brought our toys out and built a city. There was a small vet shop, an ice cream store, and our very own small park. Those were my favorite days. Also, I remember one time when I imagined God playing with me. It was a board game about firemen rescuing animals. I thought I won the game but in the end, I just said, “Okay, Jesus. I’ll let you win.” I think it was the start of my love for building blocks and playing games. I have good memories of Burger King too. After one of my classes, I would go there straight with my mom or dad to get French fries. I like Lego, Star Wars, Hot Wheels, blocks and robots at that time.

          Time shifting, entering preteen days. I recalled that I was losing interest in some toys like cars and kiddy blocks. Suddenly, my interest shifted to the more complicated Lego blocks. Something for big boys. There were happy moments but there were also sad times. Summertime came. It was getting better. We would go out of town. We would go to the beach or visit relatives up in Baguio. In Baguio, I get to do some carpentry with my Uncle Karbie. Those were the happy moments.

          Now I’ll tell you my sad moments. When I was eight, my cousins from the U.S. came back to the Philippines. Those cousins were from my mother’s side. All of my cousins were there and we were very happy. A few weeks later, my cousins needed to go back to the U.S. My mom was very unhappy about it and she cried. So was I.

When I was nine, I saw my mom reading a book and I wondered what it was. So, I just simply asked her. That was the day I found out that I’m “dyslexic.” I was like, “What was that?” She explained it to me. I felt discouraged and low. I thought that I had a problem. Then I cried. Dyslexia is a kind of learning difficulty. I had a hard time in reading and spelling. Sometimes the letters look jumbled. It’s hard to understand sometimes. But my mom said that it’s a gift. It’s a gift because there are a lot of benefits in being dyslexic. It’s easy for me to picture things in my mind. Building, creating, and thinking out of the box are some of the strengths of dyslexia.

And the last dip of my story is about my family memories. These memories are seriously the best! We have a song called “Chocolate Paa” (Chocolate Feet). We made this song because our feet were dirty. From then on, we would sing that song each time our feet are dirty. We also have a tradition we call “Asa-cho.” “Asa-cho” is a time when we share our day’s highlights and low-lights. We’ve been doing this for years. It has a great benefit for us to share our stories, how we felt and how our day went. We do this during the nighttime. We can laugh, cry, be crazy, be serious, and we pray too.

I’m so stunned at all these memories! It feels good to remember those times. These are the ones that I should never forget for the rest of my life. The lights dim and the curtains close. And that’s the end.

A/N  The author of this is the class genius