One of my earliest memories of a person from my childhood is my father. He had short hair and wore a pair of black frameless spectacles. He would drink a mug of fragrant black coffee every morning, and would wake up at around 7 in the morning. Being a child, I thought that 7 in the morning was very early, as I usually woke up at around 9. However, now as I look back, I think that 7 in the morning is not that early as I have woken up at earlier times.
One of my earliest memories of a place from my childhood was the playground in a shopping centre near my house. It was a structure of platforms in the middle of a batch of soft ground with slides of various sizes and colours at each end. There was a spiralling shiny, metal pole near one corner, and another straight metal pole at the other end. The platforms had round holes with diameters of around three centimetres. As a five-year-old, I would go there every day after school at around four to play with my friend.
One of my earliest memories of my house was a long time, ago, when I was not even five. My mother's house in Indonesia had a large, open space from the front door to my room. The open space was paved with red tiles with straight, black lines on them. It led past a storeroom, the air smelling of dust and moisture.
These are my earliest memories.
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