We did get a few things, but my cheapskate parents weren’t willing to break the bank for a bunch of excess stuff.I was pleased anyway with the things we got (I think we still have them somewhere).
Excellent, old German toys, handcrafted and made of wood, painted vibrantly in reds and whites- trains, I loved trains, and blocks, puzzles…I remember each of these, hours spent playing with my brother in our two room condo, and I don’t think I ever appreciated anything I experienced half as much as I should have.
We went to some old town, the streets were laid with beautifully carved stones, light grey and greyer, and it was wet and overcast and foggy and cold, and I think there were some pigeons or something. We went into this old shop full of wooden masterpieces, fans that spin when the candles beneath them are lit, dolls, nutcrackers, and I must have asked my parents to buy everything in the store.
Also, the chocolate, German chocolate was a favorite of everyone’s.
I had to spell ‘yes’ to get a piece once after dinner, and was dismayed to find that spelling ‘yes’ didn’t automatically get me what I wanted after that.
The stones of the castles stood out to me, their worn and wet grey against an overcast sky, almost blending in with the horizon, others under a blue sky, surrounded by trees exploding with green.
I remember taking tours of some of these castles, and while being bored by the German explanation and slow trips through limited spaces, I was simultaneously awed by their magnitude and power.Like good tourists, we went sightseeing in the country, and unfortunately, the thing I remember most of these trips was my own boredom and distress.Thinking back, I am envious of my younger self, the chance to experience so much of the world but without having the appreciation for what its worth is hardly worth it.I think that, although being long ago, my foreign adventures provided me with some insight into the world, and the pieces of my tattered memory are beautiful for the most part, and there is something I can appreciate in each and every scene.Some so vivid that if I was an artist I could paint it right now, flowing from my head straight onto paper.The streets, the stones and the people, the tiredness of my little feet, the jealousy I felt towards my brother in the blue stroller that I was too big to ride in.There are events I remember, some daily, some unique, special, yet fading each day from my mind.But my childhood, probably one of the most interesting pieces of my life thus far, has more than its fair share of gaps and confusions.From what my parents tell me, there is so much that I had experienced before my 6th birthday, yet years and years of it slipped from my mind long ago. Being a teenager, my mind is most impressionable and vulnerable at this time.I try to make the right decisions, and learn from the wrong ones. I regret what I've done, and regret what I haven't done.