One of my earliest memories is about my grandmother. She had dyed black hair, as if wanting to be young again, arms as thin as a pole and dark eyes that looked very intimidating. Every morning, before I could even wake up, she would always sweep the floor. Although she was old, she could still sweep it as fast as lightning and yet as clean as a clean piece of paper, and it looked like as if we just bought the house.
A place that I used to play is at the playground near my house. My mother used to bring me there in the morning. There would be a simple green slide, ladders with different structures and colour, and children so tall that they could tower over me, running about shouting so loudly that made my ears hurt sometimes. I also play with the balancing beam made of wood which was painted black near the slide. I would find it most amusing because I would wonder why it is hard to balance.
I used to live in the same house. There would be a long corridor that would connect my living room, which was painted white and almost looked illuminated when the ceiling lights were switched on, to my parents room. I would usually go to my parents room and jump on their bed, making sounds like "Whee!" or "Woohoo!" The place I dread the most was the storeroom because it is always dark and I never knew what will be hiding there, waiting to get me.
When I look back, I wish I could travel back in time so that I could enjoy my childhood again and I also finally understood why my dad says he misses his childhood.