childhood memories

I was about three years old when I first learned how to use scissors. After trying them on paper, I wanted to cut something else with my scissors. Something like hair so that I could pretend to be a hairdresser. It was before I had any human-shaped dolls, and all I had were stuffed animals. […]

In this memory, I’m five years old. A few times a year, I wake up to itchy eyes. The itchiness doesn’t go away even after I rub my eyes. Instead, it worsens. “Don’t rub your eyes, Sweetie,” says my mother as she examines my eye balls. “That’s pink eye. I’ll take you to the doctor,

I was probably around five when I first learned how to fold a crane with origami paper. One day, I had a friend come over at my home, and while playing with origami paper, we decided that we wanted to know how to fold a crane, the most popular shape everybody seemed to make. My

I’m five in this memory. It’s autumn. Through the open window of the backroom of our tiny half-dilapidated apartment, the cool morning air sweeps in. I’m running around the room with my little brother when suddenly, I get inspired to go to the next room, which is the tiniest room used for storage. Being afraid

In Japan, there is a stationary item called shitajiki, a hard plastic sheet you place between two sheets of paper in a notebook. It’s a tool designed for young children who use pencils to write in their notebooks so that what they write on one page won’t leave a mark on the next pages. When

In the autumn when I was five, one day, I woke up to a sore mouth. Mouth ulcers. Worse still, I had more than one. “Bummer!” I started out the day as usual, but when it was time for a meal, the pain was so much that I could barely eat anything. These mouth ulcers

Long ago, when I was in junior high school, one day, I happened to read a study material about story-telling. The article discussed the power of an emotional build-up and how after a layered preparation of events, even the simplest of trigger could create an avalanche of emotions in the audience. One of the three

In this memory, I’m six. Recently, my teacher has shown us something interesting at kindergarten. She inflated a polybag with water and tied the end tightly so that the water wouldn’t leak. When I hold it in my arms, the water in the polybag moves, making it feel like a living creature. One day, I

When my little brother has a regular check-up of his heart condition, I accompany him to the hospital with my mother. It’s now a familiar drive, out of our community of tiny, half-dilapidated apartments, down the hill, past the art gallery, cross the river, then up a narrow rocky passage before coming out right in

I’m three in this memory. My baby brother has recently been released from the hospital after his heart surgery. Though he can now stay with us at home, he is only allowed to feed a small amount each day despite his large body. Every evening, he cries out of hunger, and that’s when my mother