My Favorite Childhood Memory
I re-discovered this recently. This was my hand at creative writing sophomore year in college. At the beginning of the intro course I took, the professor asked us to jot down one goal that we wanted to achieve as creative writers--Mine was to "write something that people would want to read more than once."
I was pretty ecstatic when she chose my piece to read aloud in front of the 250+ classroom. Here it is:
After a bumpy and rugged ride, the rickshaw abruptly stopped in front of a narrow alley filled with hundreds of people. Mama carefully stepped out of the wagon and quickly grabbed my hand as I jumped onto the broken street. I looked up at the scorching sun; I would even exchange my favorite Barbie Doll that my auntie sent all the way from America, for just a millisecond of a cool breeze. Mama, in her gentle voice, thanked the rickshaw driver and paid him for his troubles. He wiped his sweaty, grimy face with the back of his palms and I watched his ailing body ride away.
Mama, still holding my hand, led me through the crowd of old and wrinkled villagers. The scent of foul body odor and animal dung made me plug my nose as hard as I could. I could only hear the muffled voices of countless people bargaining angrily with merchants. Several beggars, with their skin hanging loosely on their thin bones, approached mama in hopes of receiving something, anything. We hurried past a row of vendors yelling to get mama's attention, as if they were caged in with an angry lion—desperately screaming for help.
We finally stopped in front of a shop where hundreds of colorful, traditional bangles and earrings were displayed. They were stars, gleaming just out of reach. I heard mama arguing and bargaining with the seller for what seemed like an eternity. Puzzled, I saw the tall, bearded man kneel down and measure my small wrist with a measuring tape. Soon afterwards, I felt mama's familiar hand in mine as she slipped a sparkling piece of metal on my wrist.
At that moment, despite the unbearable summer heat, or the dirty, crowded street, I was in the most excited state of mind in my entire four years of existence. I looked at mama's face as she was tightening the clasp, and wondered if this were a dream? As I gazed at it and traced the intricate designs with the tips of my fingers, I realized that this was as real as the tears that filled mama's eyes. I could feel my heart racing as mama and I shared a warm embrace. Holding on to her hand tighter than ever before, I walked away in awe with my first piece of jewelry.
