My Earliest Memories, Tan Sian Yin (05)
One of my earliest memories is my memory of my grandmother. My grandmother was the person who took care of me when I was still a baby, until now. Her slick black hair, always curled up to match the shape of a ball, and her eyes were hazel brown, the brown that I always looked up to. My parents didn’t know how to take care of me, and so, my grandmother took care of me instead. Every time I met her, I would pick up the smell of sweet roses. I miss the times when she would soak me in water, and scrub me with those wrinkled hands of hers, a joyous smile forming on her face although I was a naughty kid, splashing dirty water all over her. This is a person I remember from my childhood.
One of the places where I used to play was the playground at my grandmother’s house. My sister and I would hop onto the plastic platforms which lead to the slide, and pretend that we were pirates, jumping on and off the ‘ship’ our screams when we played catching could be heard from afar. The slide was one that would bring us round and round until we reached the end. I remember a swing made out of simply just a wooden board and metal chains holding the swing up. I used to think that with the swing, I could reach up and touch the trees 5hat grew around the playground. The swing would creak and groan whenever we swung around. I could have the swing all to myself because my sister was scared of it. This is a place where I used to play.
I remember that I used to live in a HDB flat with my grandmother. One place that I loved was the playroom. The playroom was a child’s heaven. It was a room coloured light blue and pink. I can still remember that huge heap of toys that were nicely piled up in a neat stack. As a child, I was always in the playroom with my sister, having a picnic with the soft toys. In the kitchen, my grandmother would always be whipping a somewhat simple but delicious meal. Whether it was in the morning, afternoon or at night, I would always smell the aroma of food wafting into the room from the kitchen, and I would always hear the clinking and clanking of pots as my grandmother was cooking.
These are my earliest memories.