My earliest, memory is of me grabbing onto my father's back and crying, trying to stop him from going to his office and stay with me. And another thing I remember about this is that this happened not once, or twice, but about every single day for years on end. I do love mu father dearly, but my actions often convey the opposite to him.
I remember what type of a child I was. I wasn't ever particularly wild or very quiet. I was loud and energetic, like most kids, and I loved toys. I was also particularly smart, and what resulted from that was me being frequently showered with compliments about my intelligence.
Just like now, even then, I wasn't really an introvert or an extrovert. At times, I could confidently talk to stranger, even spout out absolute utter nonsense to them. And at other times, I couldn't even speak to my relatives because I was too 'shy'. I don't know why I am like this, and I am scared of going to a therapist.
In my kindergarten, I made many friends, most of whom are still friends with someone like me about 12 years later. I remember one thing in particular and that was even in this age, even with our innocence, various cliques were being formed. I am not really in a position to judge, seeing how I also was a part of this. But don't be mistaken, it's not just us children who became friends, even our families grow closer to each other.
I don't really have anything to say about my friends, mostly becuase I don't remember anything about them so far back. What I do remember was that at this age, I was a reticent boy.
I remember one incident very clearly. On our way home, there was a beggar who sat in the same place everyday. My mother always gave him something. My father, a realistic and hard-working man, never did. One day, I grabbed onto his arms with my own tiny arms and tugged with all my strength (which barely even did anything to him). I told him that we should help the poor. And he, for the first time ever, bend his own beliefs and gave something to the beggar. I didn't understand how wonderful of a man he is at that time.
I don't remember anything else about this part of my life, perhaps because this was the age where I was truly the best version of myself, a truly kind boy who despite being somewhat bratty, loved others dearly. Perhaps, me remembering anything else about this time of life would simply result in these memories being cruelly tainted and corrupted. And so I can say, me not remembering is probably for the best.