For many years I have had childhood memories go through my mind, and I have decided to share them. I was encouraged by friends to do it. I then came across a talk show on TV, where the author spoke about writing the things that happened to him during his childhood, and this was enough of a push for me to do it.
My earliest childhood memory was when I was four years old. My family lived in a town-house that had a central pool enclosed in a face brick wall. It had criss-cross corners, which made it any child's dream to conquer the great wall. In front of the pool area was a green open grassy field. This was right out side our unit. We had a garden with a small wall that enclosed it and there was a small gate the lead out into this grassy field. The whole complex felt safe, and I could always go out and play.
I had befriended the neighbourhood boy. He was slightly older and taller than me, so when he ran, I was always left behind. He never did it on purpose and he always tried to include me. He lived in a flat in the same complex. Sometime I would run over and find him so we could play.
We use to explore the surrounding area. One of my favourite memories is the days we ate clover leaves. We would always look for the four leaf one as it would bring us luck. Till this day I am still look for that four leaf clover. I don't eat them any more though.
One day while we were out on our exploration we came across a closed up man hole. We heard some major buzzing noises coming out beneath the cover. We weren't sure what it was. He had the idea of getting some branches that we could stick into the cover. Off we go to find a tree where we could break some branches off. He climbed the tree and threw down the branches towards me. We both grab our branch and trot off to the cover. In those days, the covers had open slots. He gave me one warning. "Run like hell when the buzzing gets loud."
We shoved our branches into the slots and started shoving them up and down. Before we knew, the buzzing started to rise and intensifying in sound. He screamed, "RUN!!!" He started running. We were neck and neck, he was slightly faster and I started losing ground. I was running my heart out. Panic started catching up. I tripped. I fell flat down to the ground, screaming. The bees were on top of me. Stinging me everywhere and anywhere they could land. I closed my eyes. Screaming.
My poor mother heavily pregnant heard my screams and in a panic ran out to get me. In her haste she tripped and fell. Thankfully she and my sister were fine. She was shaken up but had to get to me. When my mommy finally got to me, I was already bearing multiple welts from the stings. She carried my very red poker dotted and sore body back home. She lay me down on the couch and fetched the necessary tools to start the removal process of the stings. One by painfully swollen one, she removed them all.
Since that day I have not poked fun at bees and have had the hugest amount of respect towards them. I was lucky to not to have developed an allergic reaction to them. The greatest thing I took from that day was never listen to boys that do stupid things.
With Love
Ania
