9 results for 'childhood'
It was a Friday evening and the school fell into an odd silence, as all the children left as soon as the bell rang. Its weekend and the school won’t open till next Monday; the joy of the holidays filled the faces of the children and the teachers alike as they left the school grounds. A lean young man in a khaki shirt and dhoti’s was rushing through the corridors with a bundle of keys dangling in his hand, closing the windows and locking the doors of each classroom, his name was Appu and he was the school peon. It’s past 5 pm and he was in a hurry not because of the principle waiting in her... (more)
Who influenced your life as a child the most, in my case it’s my grandmother. She is my mother’s mother and the times I spend with her in my childhood are very precious to me. Her stories are the ones that gave wings to my imagination and planted the seed of a story teller in me. Among these cherished childhood memories the most memorable are those when she told me stories from the Hindu epics while feeding me; the combination of rice and peas curry with ghee, the intriguing characters in the story and her convincing tone were one of the reasons for my roly-poly form back then.
She always... (more)
My dad and his father slapped together a few boards and called it a cabin on the island where I spent my childhood summers. Actually it wasn’t even much of an island considering it was landlocked most of the year. Only a few weeks each winter when the deluge came did it pretend to float.
Supposedly it is 65.5 miles from our Seattle digs to the glorified shack. Funny how that calculation lingers in my head after all these years. I can still hear my dad say, “Won’t be long now kids…it’s exactly one hour door-to-door.” As I grew up and was able to test his theory personally, I found that... (more)
Pressing our noses against the car’s murky back windows we could see piles of bricks and other building materials. Plumbing pipes were scattered in a pile at no particular order, like in a large game of Pick Up Stix. One of the pipes had pierced a large paper bag and a trickle of cement powder was pouring out through the hole. A slightly chipped ceramic toilet seat stood on top of the pile fastened with a washing line.
“They are here, Mother, they are here,” cried Dafna excitingly.
“Who are they?” Tali enquired.
“The builders. They’re going to build our toilet.”
Have you forgotten me?How can that be?I make up youYou make up me!Experience, wonderLearning, blunderAll right, all wrongYour favorite songAll Gone All Gone(more)
Sunlight through the little window draped with plain curtains dapples the chrome-edged kitchen table. A flour coated hand pushes back wisps of gray hair from a wrinkled forehead. The worn oilcloth floor crackles under foot. And the fragrance in the air ... Heaven. There is no memory more alive to me when I remove Grandma's recipe for Brown Sugar Cookies from its drawer than this one. Great-grandma was already very old when I was born - in her 80's - and my memories of her are few and fleeting, but that kitchen, and grandma ever-present and baking in it, are etched into my mind with a clarity... (more)
...foot American Flag cake. It was actually several sheet cakes all cut and wedged together then covered with frosting. That night was the biggest fourth of July fireworks show the town ever had. We all went to the fairgrounds and "ooh"ed and "ahh"ed the night away.
That was my childhood -- at least the part I want to remember. The rest of it was a bunch of people getting divorced and dying and moving and having no friends. I can't say I enjoyed high school. It was just a time in my life I endured and made it through as best I could. College was the same way. When I ... (more)
« previous next »