childhood memories

I’m four years old in this memory. Once every week, my two best friends and I attend a group lesson at the YAMAHA music school in the city centre. My mother and my friend’s mother take turn in driving us all to the class. “All” consists of my two friends and myself, our little siblings, […]

The first year I entered primary school, I had a very kind and loving female teacher. Not just me, but everybody in my class adored her. So, when she left us for a maternity leave at the end of the school year, and a substitute teacher was assigned to our class for the new school

In this memory, I am five years old. In the playground in front of my apartment block, there is a basket swing which my two best friends and I play on all the time. Two of us move the swing fast while the last person sits inside the swing, trying to maintain her balance. This

In this memory, I am five years old. It is a weekend morning. My mother is vacuuming the floor of our tiny apartment. I am sitting on the floor with my dolls, and my brother is playing with his toy buses. The sound of the vacuum cleaner is piercing through the rooms, and I can

In this memory, I am five years old. There are many festivals in the neighbourhood of our community of tiny half-dilapidated apartments since this is one of the older part of town. The local shop owners in the area organize a number of different festivals in summer to entertain the residents. Many of them take

In this memory, I am five years old. One evening, my parents tell me that we are going to the community’s annual night festival that is happening just a short walk away from our tiny half-dilapidated apartment, on the premise of the nearby shinto shrine. After dinner, the four of us all walk to the

I am five years old in this memory. Recently, my father is reading “The Hobbit” for my bedside story. It is the thickest book he has ever read me. I admire the beauty of this book all the time – its beautiful blue cover, the fresh fragrance of the smooth paper inside, and the bookmark

In this memory, I am four years old. My little brother turns one in the month of June, and my mother prepares a special meal and a cake for his birthday. Though she is not into baking like some of my friends’ mothers, she has a few cakes she can bake well, and she bakes

I actually do not recall how old I am in this memory. Twelve or thirteen. One early summer, my family and relatives go on our annual overnight retreat at one of the hot spring resorts in the Kanto region of Japan. The first day is always a blast. Starting with a long bath in the

I am four years old in this memory. One day, my mother tells me that one of my close playmates and her family are going to somewhere called America. “America?” I repeat blankly. I have heard of America before. In the English program for kids that I watch every day on TV. But it has