The Essence of Childhood
Right after a heavy rainfall around 7 am, the smell of the wet earth reminds me of long-lost memory — sitting in a class in sixth grade. I had a seat by the window and when it rained heavily in those back-to-school June mornings, I would happily sneak a peek at the people outside with colorful umbrellas.
This memory, half-forgotten, somehow made me smile.
Memories of childhood have the ability to do that, I’m told.
Childhood is in the places we used to haunt after school for ice creams and golas. Childhood is the happiness of no responsibilities ( except for maybe holiday homework). Childhood is in that long month of summer vacation. It is saving the change when mom sends you out for errands to spend on ice cream. Childhood is in those little innocent faces smeared with mango juice. Childhood is in the warm hugs of your mother and the encouragement of caring adults. It is in rereading those Harry Potter books. Childhood is going to sleep on the couch and praying to wake up in bed.
Childhood is bliss. Childhood exists now only in memories.
