First I didn't intend to post the whole thing (just the introduction mentioned) but when I finished that, it seemed silly to have a last chapter of only two paragraphs. So I thought, what the hell.. You'll just have to excuse that this isn't 'exemplary written' and all, thus not consistent with the rest of the story. I blame it on my brain and how it handles second language acquisition. ;)
And still I don't own the OC.
LN
Childhood Memories
I never actually had a childhood when I was young, because I was never actually a child, not in the ways that matter. Now, when I'm older – more of an adolescent than a child, I have been given a chance to try it.
Were I to describe my childhood I'd first have to choose which period of my life I'd rather tell you about; the one that technically was my childhood, or the very present. The choice is easy, because only one of them feels like a childhood to me. Call me childish if you wish (I know I'm not supposed to cherish childhood at sixteen, I should want independence and privacy and my own life) but be warned: secretly, I'll take it as a compliment.
Childhood memories are the best kind of memories. None others are so full of sunny, lazy days by the pool; hanging around doing anything but what you should be doing, still not the least bothered. Biking down to the pier, finding your friends already there, waiting not specifically for you but for anything to happen. Or being the first one there, waiting for anybody to show up and make the day just a little bit different from the day before – still so similar seen from a distance. Those days of no action, no change, no plans.. those are, I think, the best of my childhood memories.
Or maybe it's those of the holidays, invented or real, when the family gathers around the dinner table just like most other days, or when the big parties are thrown. The things that make those days different; the amount of food or the number of guests. Listening to full conversations between distant or not-so-distant relatives, conversations you've heard before, but only the half contributed by the person on your side of the phone. Watching the joy, or some times annoyance, of the people you love, having the people they love close, face to face. Might those be the best of my childhood memories?
The moments you don't appreciate very much when they are there, those can turn out to be memories treasured. Like the serious conversations when you're in trouble, the moment you realize they are not only angry, but also worried. Or the times when you fight, because you know they'll still care, no matter how angry you get with them. The fact that you feel you can show them your anger, and they can show you theirs. Those, I have to say, are possibly the very best of my childhood memories.
The carelessness, the feeling that someone else is in charge, taking care about anything, everything. That's what makes the childhood memories so special. That's what makes them the best. Because they are. The best.