In this memory, I’m five years old, visiting the local art gallery with my mother and brother for a regular weekend picnic.
After the main picnic in the garden, there is one more place my mother takes us to that I look forward to. It’s a children’s playroom. But not like the ones you find in a corner of a large shopping mall. This one is different.
There’s nothing much in the large playroom except a round indentation in the middle shaped like an ampitheatre. A few enormous wooden boards are propped against the round wall so that they make slides toward the centre. Barefoot, my brother and I climb down a slide into the bottom then up on another one.
As we run down the wooden slide, the board shakes under our weights and stomping feet. It’s so fun that we cannot stop going up and down the slides as we scream with excitement.
My favourite part is when I go down the slide, feeling free like a bird in the sky.