In every
childhood there are many events that are memorable and influential because
memories are a part of life. Without them life would be meaningless because we
have no memories to hold on too. My most memorable childhood took place when I
was about eight years old. The memories of my early childhood are like
scattered, partially lost pieces of a huge mosaic.
The memories of my childhood are my
Grandma. Her name is Pagam. She always used to keep candy in her pockets, and
she had always give us some when we came to visit.
My memories are the feelings of happiness,
peace, kindness and care.I remember her soft, warm hands, her smiling with rays of
wrinkles in the corner of her eyes, her quiet gentle laughter and love.
It's the perception of the
surrounding world through love I was given and love I was taught. Grandma's morning began in the kitchen. I could hear fussy noises of
knives banging on the table, rumbling pots. Everything that came from that
kitchen was magically tasty and always delicious, because my Grandma used a
secret recipe for everything. The secret recipe is called "Love".
We used to go to my grandma's every
summer. For me, it was the best time of the year. The summer at Grandparents'
meant to be away from the city, lost in the steppes and endless fields,
welcomed us with its friendly people who knew streets straight and parallel,
lined up with nice-looking little houses.
