#real memory

[inlovewetakeourpeace]

Its truly hard to believe I even had the opportunity to experience anything like this.

Anyone like her.

It felt too good to be true.

I was so happy I didn’t even realize it.

In the end,

I was right.

It was too good to be true.

I have no choice but to move on

& it kills me inside

Extraño nuestro memorias.

[42frankee]

Enei - Real Memory by Critical Music https://ift.tt/gEzUoy9

[childhoodmemoryarchive]

When my brother was younger, he was taught by a teacher with a southern accent and after a while, he started to pick up her accent. We used to take great delight in making fun of him when he said the word ‘laugh’ because he would change his accent. I remember him standing there crossed armed and sulking. He would have been about 3 at the time and was around 7.

[childhoodmemoryarchive]

When i was a round 6 years old i was playing outside at the bottom of my nanas street with my friend jacquline, we were on our bikes. My brother john who was nearly 8 at the time came down the lain and was wanting my bike. I wouldnt give it to him so he dragged me and my friend jacquline and tied us to the lamp post by out pigtailes, then he ran away and left us. I remeber us both screeaming and then my dad came to cut us free. John then ran crossed the road and tossed my bike over the school fence. my dad who had ran after him then climbed over to get my bike back and while he was doing his a policemand was passing and saw my dad and asked him what he was doing and he ended up having to go to the station.

This is a memory my dad never let us forget as we were growing up and he would tell us everytime my brother got in touble 'remember when john tied you to the lampost'. This is a very vivd memory from my childhood as it was quite trumatic for me.

[childhoodmemoryarchive]

Alice

When I was a little over six years old, my family moved from the north, back to the south west, so that we could be closer to my grandparents. 

So just after Easter, I started a new term at a new school. The school was small, around 60 children including the preschool. It was made up of a Old Victorian school building, and two porta-cabins, one that housed the preschool, one which held class one (reception, years 1 and 2) and class two (years 3 and 4). 

From the class one classroom, you had a clear view of a thicket at the end of the “short field”. It was a small school, in the middle of nowhere, there was not much to do, and so often the older children would run off into the thicket, often shouting about ghosts, and chase each other in and out.

I was not exactly a shy kid, but it sometimes took me a while to make friends, and my first few weeks at the school were somewhat lonely. The school was tight knit, and it could be difficult for even the most social kids to fit in if they were new. I wasn’t really allowed into any games, but if I tried to entertain myself i was made fun of. Clearly one lunch time I got sick of it, and wondered off into the thicket. It was dark and eerie, the trees were close together and the foliage was over grown. But not very far in I found a headstone. It was simple and rounded, and stood alone in the thicket. The plants grew a little sparser over it, but a pile of sticks crisscrossed over the plot. The headstone was warn and peppered with orange lichen, and I could only make out the name “Alice” which sat center of the stone. 

I understood why this might have been while the older kids talked about ghosts in the thicket, and felt a little shaken and very cold, and quickly left the thicket.

It left me unnerved for some time, and I didn’t set foot in the thicket until i was in Year 6. 

Because of renovations to the main building, class three (years five and six) moved over into the class room that had been class one’s. So once again I was overlooking the thicket.  One afternoon my year collectively decided it should be the day that we all collectively go into the hedge, one by one, and go touch the grave stone. Other than the time I saw it myself, I had never heard anyone actually mention the grave stone.  Being a small school, most of the kids had had older siblings there, and so traditions tended to get passed down even if they made no sense. So I didn’t really question if it was a real tradition. 

One by one we all go in, a few brought back stones or stick, some took witnesses to confirm they did it. I went near the end, but before some of my friends to prove it was safe. 

The thicket and the grave were as i remembered it, I once again felt cold inside, and I was careful not to set foot on the grave as I touched the headstone.  The only difference was that there was no name on the headstone. 

[childhoodmemoryarchive]

Falling

When I was six years old my sister and I went on holiday to Malta with my aunt and uncle. We stayed in a little house in a holiday village, and every morning we would go down to the shop to buy fresh bread for breakfast. About half way to the shop, there was a little playground, and everyday I would ask for permission to run ahead and play until the adults reached me. One morning I got permission to run ahead, but I didn’t get far before I fell over and did a full 180 degree tumble on the rough asphalt. I was covered in grazes, on my knees, my elbows, my hands and my face. I remember being really sad for a bit, but I don’t remember it having an impact on my holiday otherwise.

[childhoodmemoryarchive]

My earliest memory

I have what I believe to be my earliest childhood memory and it is SO vivid! I was 2 years and 9 months old and I went with my brother to visit my mum in hospital when she had my little sister. I remember mum being in a huge empty room with just her alone in a bed. I was really shy and didn’t want to see my sister or speak to my mum, I just hid behind my dad.  But mum had bought my brother and I little presents and they were on the floor a little far away from her bed. I was instructed to go and collect my present which was a little baby doll in a basket. Mum said it was from my baby sister, so I think I felt happier about my sister after that and was encouraged to go up to her and see her. There are no photos of this visit, so I do genuinely believe this to be a memory. I have very few other childhood memories, most of them I think are just me remembering the photos we have from childhood instead!

[childhoodmemoryarchive]

There is a memory which quite vivid in my mind and it is of me at about the age of 5 or 6 standing in the sea with my two older sisters jumping waves. They have a hold of one of my hands each and as the waves came closer they would swing me in the air as they jumped and land right in the wave and float back a little. This is one of my favourite memories of going to the beach with my family.