childhood memories

I’m eleven or twelve in this memory. I visit my maternal grandmother in the countryside during the summer break. As soon as my mother and I arrive at her house, I follow my grandmother to her bedroom to drop my bags. It’s a tradition between us to have a little chat there before joining others

In this memory, I’m nine years old. It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m attending a group lesson at a local music school with my friends. There are five of us in the room. Our teacher plays a melody on the piano, and we write down the notes as we hear it, trying to recover the melody

In this memory, I’m nine years old. One day, as I come home and stand outside the front door, I get inspired to pretend I’m a delivery person. “Hello?” comes my mother’s voice from the intercom, and I put on a deeper voice, mimicking a typical delivery person that comes to our house. “Your delivery

In this memory, I’m seven years old. In summer, my two best friends come over to my family’s new home for a sleepover. It’s our first overnight stay together, and therefore, our excitement is over the moon. Just as evening blossoms into night, the three of us are playing in my family’s bedroom, running and

I’m nine years old in this memory, sitting with my classmates for our moral education class. Today’s discussion theme is “father.” Once we’ve finished reading today’s reading material about the topic, our teacher opens the conversation with a question. “What is something special your father does for you at home?” Before I know it, my

The year when I entered primary school, a mysterious toy item became popular all over the country: a tiny egg-shaped digital toy with a screen and three buttons in which you take care of a digital pet. the toy appeared from nowhere, and all of a sudden, both adults and children were crazy about it.

In this memory, I’m four years old. In our tiny, half-dilapidated apartment, there is no such thing as a bedroom. What we have is a tiny backroom that operates as the children’s playroom during the day and converts into the family’s sleep room in the night. All four of us sleep in the same room,

The spring I turned six, I started taking private piano lessons for the first time. My first lesson was some time in mid April. One warm, sunny afternoon, my mother and I drove to my piano teacher’s house on the south side of the town. In my lap was my old, tattered YAMAHA music school

I’m seven years old in this memory. It’s early autumn, and we are practicing the play The And and the Grasshopper by Aesop in the school’s auditorium. The annual students’ performance day is coming up in October, and today is one of our first on-stage practice sessions. As one of the several Grasshoppers, I stand