They say that writers have vivid memories and wild imaginations. “A writer remembers.” Every minute details of days gone by are all kept intact in our minds. What were my earliest memories? Though years have come and passed me by, my childhood days are still worth reminiscing. Born to a simple yet loving family, as the eldest child, I’ve experienced to play all by myself with no steady playmates to stay. I was confined in my solitary world for four years after which my sister was born. I can still remember, up to this very minute I can picture myself playing in our yard near a mango tree- an old mango tree, digging the soil, talking to my “imaginary” friend at that time while Mom is busy cooking in our kitchen. That tree is my “tree”. (No need to look up on free home listings, it's right there out our yard) It has witnessed how I grew up and withstood many storms in this lifetime. At that time our house was built inside a yard full of different trees and there were even stories of supernatural creatures that came through the darkness at night but unlike other kids my age, I simply ignored them.
A tough, brave kid you might say as haunting stories like that don’t readily scare me but rather I fancy them as I weave wild imaginations of other beings that lived around our house. My “tree” they said was inhabited by a half-horse, half-human creature from the underworld! No, he cannot possibly own my tree! There might be giants there lurking in the dark night on a full moon and vampires roaming around searching for their preys. And so, that is how I came to love Stephen King!
Some nights, my sister and I would sneak on the bed with our father as he tells us stories about his own childhood spent in the countryside. My dad is really my first storyteller and up to this day, he loves it when his children listen to whatever story he unfolds.
How I also missed going to the carnival with my family during my primary school days. Right after we buy jumbo hotdog waffles and delicious Coney Island chocolate ice cream! (anybody here who’s familiar with Coney Island ice cream?) Those were the days…embedded in my heart, sweet memories I can go back to from time to time. Memoirs I can even tell to my future children and maybe grandchildren as well in the future.I’m gonna be the storyteller by then.