Linzin Week, Day 5: Memories
From my earliest childhood, he's always been there. The quiet boy was always pushed into the background by his older and noisier siblings, and I was more inclined to run and play with them. For years he sat in the background with his soft voice and shy smiles. It might have been that difference in temperaments that first interested me. For the longest time I would only have described him as boring, but eventually he fascinated me and I longed to understand him. It would have been easy for his brother and sister to pull him along on our adventures, and they certainly tried, but he always had a talent for slipping away back to the quiet solitude he preferred.
As I grew older, that must have been what drew me. I knew his siblings inside and out, but he was a complete mystery. That hole in my understanding nagged at me until finally it was strong enough to suck me away from the outdoors and persuade me to sit quietly next to the strange boy. It took coaxing to get him to open up to me. Time after time I grew frustrated and ran away back to the games I was used to, but I would be right back there sitting next to him the following day. We eventually found a balance between our personalities. He laughed a little more, and I found the patience to sit quietly without being driven to fill each waking moment with activity. The best stories of my childhood are dominated by the wild adventures I had with Kya and Bumi, but my favorite memories are those where I sat next to a serene young boy and listened to the wind blowing gently through the windows.