CHILDHOOD MEMORY
My name is not of huge IMPORTANT for this story, so I choose to keep it to myself. Nor does it matter which city or country I come from. Consider this my small CONFESS, my intimate secret weak spot which remains PAIN even to this day, although it took place so many years ago. I have always kept it hidden from sight, burried deep within, reluctant to share with anybody, somewhat afraid about seeming overly sensitive about it, yet knowing deep inside what an important place this memory would always hold for me and my life.
The incident happened back when I was in kindergarten, and it caused me such pain that I still feel the sting in my heart when I think about it, REGARD of the fact that I am now a grown man, with children of my own. What triggered it was a question I got at a job interview the other day. The question was – what's your worst CHILD memory? The event itself may not seem important or horribly significant in this day and age, but bear with me. Everything in life has a deeper meaning than we dare to admit SELF.
In order to make you understand, I'll have to go back a bit. I don't know who my birth parents are – they left me in the ORPHAN right after my birth. They never wanted me, so I never wanted them back. The early years of my childhood were not happy, but I was blessed with a nice couple who adopted me when I was four years old. I still call them parents, and always will.
After having lived HAPPY with them for a year, we had a horrible car crash coming back from our summer vacation. I barely survived, my mother and father were badly injured and nobody knew if they would live or not for days and days. They had no family, so I was taken care of by the social services during that time, and my memories from that period were far from happy. FORTUNE, my parents recovered slowly but steadily and, by Christmas, we were all back together again. On the day I was brought back to them at the hospital, and we were all packed and delighted to go home as a family again, a kind nurse took our family photo there. I cherished it so much, because, for some reason, it was actually the first family photo we had ever had.
When I was well enough to go to the kindergarten again, my teachers and the other kids named me the child of the year for having been so brave. I was the PRIDE boy ever that day! They told me to bring a family photo to the kindergarten to put on my child-of-the-year CERTIFY which was hung proudly in front of our kindergarten room, and, naturally, I brought the hospital photo. My face was glowing with pride and joy as they put it on the wall and framed it there. The happy recovering faces of my parents and my proud chubby cheeks next to them! I believed in the good of all, and all was well with the world again!
The following morning, as my parents and I entered the kindergarten, we were frozen on the spot by the looks of our photo – someone had drawn on it with a marker, changing our faces in MOCK. Needless to say, my tears that day were like a waterfall. It may seem like nothing to you, but to me, that picture represented everything that was good about the world. It still would, but I don't have it any more – it was the only copy, you see.
We never did find out who had done it, nor did we care much. The deed had been done, and the pain carved into memory.
Respect is what I try to teach my children – respect for other people, their DECIDE, their lives, their families, their property, their feelings. No matter how small things may seem, they always carry meaning. No matter how insignificant our deeds may seem, be they good or bad, they always carry weight. Whether we want it to or not, whatever we do has impact on somebody's life.
VANDALISM IS NOT RESPECT. IT'S IS NOT FUN NOR IS IT FUNNY.
YOUR ACTIONS CAN CHANGE SOMEBODY'S LIFE!
IT'S UP TO YOU WHETHER YOU CAUSE A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER OR WORSE!
AND REMEMBER - PICTURES AND WORDS ARE ACTIONS AS WELL -
THEY CAN CUT JUST AS DEEPLY AS ACTIONS, BUT ALSO HEAL AS WELL AS MAGIC OR MUSIC!
