My earliest memory

Photo by Chi Lok TSANG on Unsplash

The earliest memory of my childhood is when I used to play with neighboring kids. Kids of all ages. Kids from different backgrounds. Then, I didn’t realize any such differences.

I was probably 2 years old or maybe even 3 years. I fondly remember this kid, slightly older than me, talking to me. But he spoke a different language. Something that I realized only when I grew up older. When the world defines your identity — you’re this and that.

I remember running behind him as he was faster and more agile. I would chase to catch him. Expecting the roaring laughter from everyone watching us as my victory crown.

I couldn’t comprehend most of what he would say. I would nod in agreement to every spoken word as if I had no doubt in my mind. I did not.

When he would walk away to go home, I would realize that it wasn’t what I expected. I would run after and grab his T-shirt from behind. Pull him back. Talking gibberish in my own language. Something that he didn’t understand either.

As we didn’t speak the same language, we did not understand each other. But we did, in a way. We did know what we both wanted — just to have fun. And that was good enough to overcome this language barrier. We just wanted to run around, jump like kangaroos, dance like superstars, catch each other. All those things and anything that brought joy. And the idea that he didn’t understand me — did not even pass my mind. To me, he understood me the most. Because he was always there to play.

Life is so ironic. Language didn’t matter as kids as we could still get through to other kids. As adults, we communicate easily, perhaps most people in multiple languages. Yet we still struggle to get through to our friends and families. As kids, we want to grow up fast to be adults. And do all those fascinating things that we are told we cannot do as kids. But once we grow up, we crave those childhood days when we were carefree. Maybe, we just need to revisit those moments and remain a child at heart.

What are some of your fond memories of childhood?

--

--

--

Reader. Blogger. Some Enthusiast. Some-chauvinist. Some Expert. Some Guy.

Love podcasts or audiobooks? Learn on the go with our new app.

Recommended from Medium

7 Things Pink Does to Make Parenting More Fun

30. ARE WE THERE YET?

Families who Fight may be Healthier Than Families who Don’t

A look back 3 years | Cancer v Dementia

My grandparents’ house

My Grandma’s Death

LOVE IN THE TlME OF LANDLINES: STORY OF (AGONY, DRUGS AND FUILFILMENT)

What it meant to not have a father

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Navin Chaudhary

Navin Chaudhary

Reader. Blogger. Some Enthusiast. Some-chauvinist. Some Expert. Some Guy.

More from Medium

Why are we easily blinded by the term successful?

Why do beaches attract me more than mountains?

How To Get The Girl (Part 1)

Life is too short to think about what others will think