“‘Turn around, child,’ [Mother] said. ‘Look once more before you leave home. Childhood is waving farewell and you are stepping out today into a big, wide world. But there will never be anything more precious than this spot, be it ever so simple, for it was your home.'” (from Hansi: The Girl Who Loved the Swastika, by Maria Anne Hirschmann)

I was glad to leave my home, and like Hansi, I quickly found a new home among new places and faces. Returning to who I was as a child is the last thing I want to do.

But my childhood memories are few and precious. (Yes, even the hard ones: fighting every morning with le seour, Christmas times where we were all missing Dad, not fitting in with who I really wanted to be friends with.)

(Note: The following memories are how I remember them. Maybe they didn’t happen exactly this way, but this is how I think of my childhood.)

One of my greatest memories of my childhood home is going out for a walk all by my lonesome at night, when I could clearly see the stars, accompanied by Delirious trapped forever in CD and walk up either of the hills, just lollygagging about, worshipping God and getting refreshed. I would do that here, but there’s not enough country/too much city.

Another memory I have is one day my Mom must have been having a bad day, or my sisters and I were being really really terrible! Anyway, we were down stairs in Vikki’s room, talking, hanging out and trying to to piss Mom off anymore, when we started to hear some loud banging-type noises come from upstairs. We went slowly up to investigate, and all the lights were off, the record player (yeah, a really old one! it still works really well!) was spinning (right round baby right round like a record baby right round round round!), playing as we later found out Pink Floyd, and Mom was laying on the floor just enjoying the music, and relaxing in her own way. We crept back downstairs, happy that Mom was okay, and content to let her deal with what she was going through. I was surpised because that was the first time it really sunk in that Mom actually liked rock music, which eventually birthed the music I love today. She became more than just a “mom” that day.

I remember in Grade 9 or 10 when the cat I got on my ninth birthday (two months after my dad passed away) died in the bus engine (gosh, I have some terrible cat-death stories! And Mom, I don’t blame you one bit for Sammy’s death. Just wanna put that out there ^_^). And when Vikki found out, she laughed. Out Loud. I was in the same room. Even though he was an outside cat, I still loved him, and I couldn’t believe how cruel she was. I know she didn’t (doesn’t) like cats, but that was still really cruel.

I remember in Grade 10 or 11 when I would come home (mostly) every day after school, get a snack, get my current “The Cat Who” book, settle in the red chair (I loved that chair!) with Elijah, such a beautiful, soft white and gray cat, and enjoy the book whilst stroking the cat in my lap.

I remember how much I loved youth groups. I hated to miss a single event, and if Mom made me stay home, I would be so angry/upset. I don’t really know why (besides God) I loved to go, because I was never really super close with any of the kids there, until Dana and Shannon came. I remember the TFK concert at Faith Baptist. Oh, that was really fun. I also really enjoyed the occasional youth retreats I went on with the Pentacostal church. Peter, Peter and Mitch were fun guys. Then Mark came to Bethel, Dan came to St. A’s, and I believe it was Mark who was at Faith during my last years of high school. Maybe there were some other youth pastors inbetween, but I guess they just didn’t make a lasting impact on me. I am so glad I had the opportunity to be mentored in the youth ministry team with Ben, Meaghan, Dan, Juline, Jean and Mike (and some other youth, but sorry, I forget).

While I’m reminded of Meaghan, hehe, I can’t forget the various heists she and I pulled on the Ankenmann’s house. Oh, those were fun. I can’t really believe how into that we got. haha.

Ahh, childhood! ^_^


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