I could see my memory as a third person.
First time I tasted alcoholic beverages when I was still a toddler. Sitting on my father's lap, facing my uncles at the round table, and my grandma who grinned at me—probably proud that I didn't vomit.
The bitterness still lingers in my tastebuds, and the cold winds beneath the night sky gave me goosebumps.
Wearing little white sleeveless shirt being blown gently with a printed skyblue summer shorts. My back isn't presssing, just sitting straight.
I still wonder the feeling of having someone to lean on, but I'm too shy and old for that. They now expect that I could stand tall, be proud and all, never fall... Like how I was then.
