I actually don't remember too much. I mainly remember the scenes I saw in pictures that I have looked at again and again so a memory has now formed around them. I think I remember the appartment where I lived with my parents. How we didn't have much because they saved money to afford a house for us all one day. How my dad knew all about nature and history and science. Everything basically, how proud I was that he was my dad. And how everyone loved my mum, that she was truly beautiful. Not so that everyone would turn their heads but I remember a warmth radiating from within her, her eyes always smiling, her body just a bit soft in the right places, ideal for cuddling. Really we were almost too normal I guess looking back. Maybe that's why it all changed one day...
And I remember going up to the building site every weekend, to see how our small house on the hill was built. To stand on the ground where my room would later be. To help choose the carpet even though I was too young to be trusted with a choice like that. But they went with my choice...
Seeing the bricks still, the skeleton of the house, running around it, later picking up all the little electric cord pieces. The cut offs, some yellow/green striped, some blue, some red. I was a great collector. I collected it all. But my collections are lost, only exist in my memory now and I'm not sure I can trust my memory always. I was sad moving up on the hill, leaving the busy apparment complex behind with all my friends and moving to a posh neighbourhood where we only just fit in. Our tiny house a bit further towards the woods, where the ground was cheaper.
After the move I heard people say I had changed, I kept to myself more. Well, I wasn't really welcomed. But i loved running around outside, rearranging my collections of electric cord cut offs, knowing they were the brothers and sisters of the cords now running through the walls in our house, bringing us light and comforts; or my stone collection, or the collection of tiny plastic animals my doctor had in this huge jar that he fetched every time I had been good at an appointment. He fetched it from high up, and it was so heavy, I always worried he'd drop it. then he took off the lid and I could choose one. Always one. And I always knew which one was still missing. But sometimes I took a second elefant or a third pink piggy, just because I could. It was all my choice. And my life was wonderful and perfect. I might sometimes have been lonely looking back after our move but I had the best parents...
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