Anima | The Scribe Circle

Childhood Memories ~ Alice

"The past is history, the future is a mystery and the present is a gift."

The present is what I strive to be in. But I shall always fail, for the past leers at me and the future beckons me.

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Between childhood and adulthood, there is adolescence, and adolescence truly is a time of realisation.

Adolescence is the time when you realise that you are no longer a child and adulthood beckons at you, but it is also such a frightful thing.

Most live in the moment during their teenage years, live in the moment and have fun and do what they want. But for some, they are still stuck in the past, constantly being reminded of it and never truly being in the present.

The past is what defines us and always will - it will forever be there, unchangeable and set in stone, unlike the future. The past and present define the future, but the present is so fleeting that it all becomes past.

When you grow and are no longer a child, you take a moment to look back on who you were, who you are now, and you might smile and cry and move on, but for Alice, it is hard to smile and move on.

It was the beginning of high school that brought it all upon her. The realisation of responsibility, of the friends that she had made no longer by her side, of the unfamiliar neighbourhood and alien room.

Alice feared change. Change was upon her, and she didn't like it - it meant moving on from primary school, from the "good old days", from her closest friends and Kerrie Road and 39 Torwood Avenue.

It was when she couldn't find Flora that she cried. It was foolish, really - crying over a stuffed toy? Who did that?

Alice did.

She cried because the toy, even though it were like any other toy, was a remnant of her childhood and of the first twelve years of her life. Because between that time of boxes and packing and moving houses and her second year of high school was her panicking and trying not to show it.

No, not trying.

She couldn't show it.

In a way, it was because it would show weakness.

The words sounded so nice in her head, but when it came to writing them down or telling someone they all came out in rushed sentences with bad pronunciation.

She just couldn't show what she thought and felt properly, and it irritated her - when she did what her precious books said, she still couldn't get the words out.

Being fourteen and in the present for Alice was standing on a wire between the past and future, and it was slowly thinning to a couple threads and she wanted to fall.

She fell multiple times, but then there was the reminder that no one could understand how she felt - or perhaps they could, but no one could think like she could.

It was these moments of crying and sadness, that happened quite often, these moments of reminiscing and nostalgia, that brought images into Alice's head.

The memories were blurry, hazy from time and they were remembered simply from the other times she had cried about them, as well as how much she held them in her heart and how much her family had talked about them.

Then there were the objects that the memories were attached to, the toys and photos and trinkets that were constant reminders of the past, in an attempt to keep it closer, make it seem as if it weren't so far away, as if it weren't so painful to remember.

There were three "special" toys.

The first, Flora, which Alice couldn't find since the move from Leonard to High Street (her parents told her it was probably in a box somewhere, and she genuinely hoped it was), was a small dog, cream in colour and a reminder of primary school.

The second, an unnamed dolphin from Sea World, was a reminder of when the tension between her parents wasn't so tight, and of her father when she was young.

The third was a pink bunny, this one a reminder of childish foolishness and of Glen Waverley and her mother.

Time made Alice feel - want - to be distant from her parents. To be alone, independent, to think and wonder with no interruptions.

Where Flora had come from, or what age she had been when she got it, Alice didn't remember. It had probably been a gift from her parents or something similar.

Flora was 39 Torwood Avenue for Alice. The first twelve years of her life. Mount View Primary School, and all of her friends there. It was sleeping on the top bunk of a bunk bed and using the extra space to hide in. It was reading throughout the night and not even being that tired. It was, in effect her childhood. Her years before adolescence and high school. High school was, Alice thought, the moment when you start growing and changing. Some, like her, would have to leave what they knew behind and make something new, and perhaps try cling onto what was familiar.

Her friends from her childhood comforted her. Reminded her that she wasn't alone. High school had been harsh. Flora had been a reminder that primary school was still there at the bottom of her tired heart.

The dolphin was her father. She remembered how he had gotten it, although the picture was hazy she remembered how her family had told the story over and over again. They had been to Sea World for a holiday and playing this game where you had to aim small rings at bottles to get them on. Her father had had enough - he hadn't been able to get any on - and he had turned around, exasperated, and had accidentally thrown the ring, accidentally getting it on. Alice had probably been the one to decide what their prize was, for the blue dolphin (which now lay situated on top of her wardrobe between boxes after a while of taking up space on the floor) had stayed with her. She always kept it in her room. It was when she could talk to her father when he wasn't working and when her parents still talked and it was less stressful. It was when she could talk to her father without her mother rolling her eyes.

The pink bunny was her mother, and although Alice disliked pink, the bunny remained somewhere beneath the rest of her toys on her bed. She remembered semi-clearly how she had gotten the toy, the image stronger. She remembered being young, young enough to still sit in the trolley at Woolworths or some similar supermarket. She remembered being in it with her brother, and she remembered the shelves. Had it been the medicine section? She couldn't remember that clearly, but she remembered being curious and hanging onto the shelves and pulling. She remembered falling and her mother being panicked and the hazy body of an employee. She remembered having the choice of what toy she wanted as compensation. She had chosen that pink bunny - and, from memory, her brother had chosen a monkey. Alice wasn't sure.

For her, her equivalent of a teddy bear had been Flora, but the dolphin and bunny were guarding over her treasured childhood. Toys, although worthless for some, reminded Alice that the past was still there and hopefully she could make amends with it.

----

I remember many things. But what scares me most is what I don't remember.

I want to be able to remember my parents talking to each other calmly.

But I can't.

It feels like it's so far away.

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Song (s): Drop - Ludovico Einaudi; She/Swimming - Moon Ate the Dark

Word Count: 1277