Warmth
There is one event that I remember the most from my childhood. It isn't significant, hasn't changed who I am. Well, maybe it has. I don't really know anything for certain anymore.
I remember warmth. Not just in the physical way, but warmth in my soul, wrapped around me, not letting go for that brief amount of time. For that one moment in my life I was perfectly content, perfectly happy. Nothing could have possibly made me happier.
I think that memory is what pulled me through all of these years, kept me going. There were several years where this memory left me; I was so different then. I'm not quite sure what made me remember, but it helped me, my remembering did, no matter how vague it is.
There is laughter. I've just woken up, and my eyes are still half closed. I'm a little boy now. I have woken to a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through my windows and I hear laughter. Yes, laughter. For many years to come I will have forgotten that this once existed in my home.
My eyes are fully open now as I bound down the stairs in the direction of my mother's laughter. I can't wait to see her, can't wait to see the look in her eyes as she laughs. She has the most beautiful eyes when she laughs.
I make my way, still running through the corridors of my home. Somehow, I can tell exactly where the laughter is coming from.
I skid to a stop in front of an open doorway and turn, letting out a delighted giggle at the sight of father tickling my mother on the couch mercilessly. They hear me and turn to me, big grins gracing both their faces, and beckon me forward. My father stands and grabs me as I run forward and jump into his welcoming arms.
He twirls me once then sits alongside my mother, placing me on his lap. Together they tell me the news that has them in such wonderful moods. They are expecting a child.
The rest of the day goes on in a happy blur.
It was my last day as an innocent child. The next day my father was recruited unwillingly into Voldemort's inner circle. Threats can change a man a great deal.
The child was lost as a punishment to my father, though it hurt the whole family.
I remember now, how I came to remember. Eyes. I came across and old 'friend' many years after my schooling. I looked into her kind, warm, honey-brown eyes and it came back to me. I will be forever grateful to that pair of beautiful eyes.