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(p) The Happiest Memory

Tohle je povídka/úvaha/kdovíco psaná jako domácí úkol na angličtinu. Přemýšlela jsem, jestli to sem vůbec dávat, a pokud ano, jestli bych to neměla přeložit do češtiny, jenže... zní to asi jako pitomost, ale v angličtině se mi kdovíproč lépe vyjadřují pocity. Snáz se mi to píše či říká, snad protože mám úplně iracionální dojem, že tomu lidi hůře rozumí a neodhaluji se tak tolik. I tak jsou věci níže řečené dost osobní, což byl v mé hlavě argument proti zveřejnění. Ani teď si nejsem jistá, jestli nedělám chybu ':D Ale na druhou stranu se mi líbí některé věci, které se mi tam podařilo říct (třeba poslední věta :D). Tak či tak je to vlastně takové dohadování se se sebou samou, vnitřní monolog, chcete-li. Netušila jsem totiž, o čem slohovku na téma nejšťastnější dětské vzpomínky napsat, tak jsem se alespoň pokusila zdůvodnit, proč to nejde.

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This is what he remembers, as he sits by the ocean at the end of the line...*(1)

No. That's another story.

This is what I remember, as I lay in the dark and stare at the stars. They are not real stars, they are glowing stickers on the ceiling. My Mum tried to arrange them into constellations, but the Plough is turned around, as a mirror image, the Corona Borealis is too big and the Dolphin has a bent tail.

I remember our garden games, played repeatedly throughout many warm afternoons. We (meaning me, my friend from neighbourhood P., sometimes my sister or his brother) were elves and magicians, we ran, we fought, far, far away. I actually recall our fictional fellow-fighters and fictional enemies. I remember how we conquered the Path of Rainbow. I remember how I made the seeds beneath the ground grow. I remember how we thought up the water elves, hybrids of elves and fairies. I remember we played quidditch when P. read the Harry Potter books, and we trained in the Dauntless faction when he read the Divergent trilogy.

The happiest childhood memory...

I was not happy as a child, although from time to time I was content. I lived in books more than I lived anywhere else.*(2)

Wrong story, again. Isn't it funny, how it fits?

I wonder whether I was happy or not. I just was, as always. I was partly completely different person than I am now. Partly I was the same. My childhood is not very distant, but yet it feels like a locked coffer. Who knows what might be hidden inside.

I am not sure. There are so many days that faded away, forgotten forever. I think it's the destiny of memories: to slowly disappear.

Maybe there is no happy childhood memory at all in my head. When it's happy, it's also very sad at the same time. Because these carefree days are over, never coming back again. And I miss them so much it nearly hurts. I miss my friend, our fantasies, these faraway lands we were able to visit, despite the fact we didn't leave the garden.

I think it's maybe the 'never' which hurts the hardest and the 'forever' I fear the most.

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* The quotes are by Neil Gaiman, from his book The Ocean at the End of the Lane ( (1) summary on the back side of cover;  (2) beginning of chapter II)

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(May 2020)