I am five in this memory. Autumn. The day of my kindergarten’s sport festival.
Another race is designed for our young siblings. When they are called to the track with their parents, my brother also stands at the start line with my mother. Many of them do not seem to understand what is going on, but once the pistol sounds, their parents nudge them, and they all start toddling to the other side. My brother also follows.
From where I sit, they are too far to clearly see each of their faces. But I do spot my friend’s sister dashing to the goal line like a shooting star. Then my brother toddling behind the crowd with my mother, looking unsure what this race is all about.
Once they reach the goal, our teachers hand each of them a treat – a small snack item – and the race is over. My brother goes back to the family seating area with my mother, with his treat in his hand. He probably does not understand that he has just done a race, but he is nonetheless happy to have his little treat in his hand.