I don’t have much memories from when I was young — only fragments or scenes. My first memory is when I was 2 or 3 when my mother broke her leg while we were walking down a flight of stairs.
There is a scene I remember when I was getting off from a tram with my mother and my maternal grandfather.
It was an old tram, a TW 6000, which had steps and an elevated travelling area because it could also be used as an subway car. Above ground the steps transformed from a wall to stairs while the doors were open.
And the steps were moving just a little bit. I was stepping off the last step when my leg hit the edge of the step (a lip that bulged up) and I tripped and hit the concrete face forward. I cried, but nothing really happened, no blood. Small children fall small distances. Then, like a returning joke my mother said the same thing she said when I — or allegedly my older sister — tripped and fell:
Did you find something?
Obviously, because if a sub 10 years old child finds something laying on the concrete ground while getting off the tram, he gets real close to it in a falling fashion.
That sarcastic bastard.
(P.S. I love my mother)