Daydreaming

Childhood

Start // 2:26 am

I look back at my childhood and I remember a lot of things. Like that time one of my friends pushed me off the slide so she could get to her turn back in kinder. Or the first time I noticed my parents' wrinkles getting deeper than the last time when I stared at them in third grade. Or how the way people viewed each other was better than it was compared to today.

We used to live in an apartment. My dad would wake up at 4 am to go fishing and I'd always wait for him to come back in front of our house's door, because I was never allowed to go out in fear that I'd be taken. He'd promise to take me the next time. The same thing happens the next 4 times I ask to come along.

Eventually I decided to do something else with my time.

My dad had one wrinkle on his forehead.

My mum used to have a whole box of letters my dad gave her to show his love for her. I'd wake up at 5 am to read them and laugh at the goofy things my dad would tell her. In one letter he traced his whole hand out and wrote his letter inside the outline. Such a simple, small idea, and yet it sent my heart racing with happiness.

Eventually the letters ran out.

My mum had wrinkles beside her eyes.

I found albums of my parents in their travels. How my dad had his arms wrapped around my mother as they smiled at the camera.

We'd go out in the heat outside our air conditioned home, go to the park at 6 am on the weekend and drink sour home made lemonade. It would make my cheeks hurt and my throat sore. I'd looked at my parents as they breathe in a sigh, I'd do the same. I didn't know what that feeling was that I felt that day in my heart, but I forget it sometimes now.

School and wet hair in the morning (because I showered every morning despite my fatigue even today) and pigtails and sneakers. I'd wake up at 7 am, galloping away from my parents' fading silhouette. Friends, chatter, fresh air, old dusty books in the corner of the class, and tall friendly teachers.

Eventually I got busy.

Trying to make my parents proud.

Trying to keep up with school.

Trying to not fail.

One time I did. I failed. And I was scared.

When I looked at my parents straight in the eye they smiled and told me that failure helps you realize what to fix. I felt better.  I didn't know what that feeling was that I felt that day in my heart, but I experience it a lot now.

They gave me ice cream after to alleviate my sadness.

Of course it worked.

But ice cream can ever alleviate sadness for a certain amount of time.

My parents had gray hair.

I read a poem once. How monsters aren't under our beds, rather, in our heads instead. I also learned that monsters can come in the forms of little boys. The demons that they are, I befriended one. He would pull my hair and I'd punch him lightly on his face. It was nothing that time.

We got older. His voice got deeper and I got taller. We'd talk about more reasonable things. The world, our dreams, how sour the taste of lemonade is but how happy I was when it reminded me of my parents and our days in the park.

He chased me and I was laughing. He still pulled my hair, but it was just to pull me closer to him. His lips were softer than my pillows on the nights I'm derived of sleep. I didn't know what that feeling was that I felt that day in my heart, but I cherish it more than I care to admit now.