Finding a childhood memory has been tough.
First I couldn't find anything from my childhood at home because most of it is still at my Mom's. I have many many things that I kept, like letters, stuffed animals, crayons, drawings, books and much more.
During the day I kept having flashbacks of the bad memories I had and I hated it.
Why the bad memories? I have so many wonderful ones!
Why did I kept thinking about that one thing that makes me feel less than nothing? My childhood was great, I love my brothers and sisters even if we had our moments. I love my Mom. I love my family.
I remember going in the woods and pretending we were bandits and police officers, I remember going picking blackberries and mushrooms, I remember playing shows for my parents in tutus and costumes, I remember my red-hair doll, I remember the rides on the motorcycle in the woods with my dad, I remember watching the 'Tour de France' passing by, I remember going to the lake and eating strawberry 'BN' and drinking oasis, I remember the 'centre aéré' and the things we created there, I remember my beautiful music teacher, my kind latin teacher, my severe but fair English teacher, I remember my first kiss and how I hated it, I remember watching the stars in the middle of the road with my best friend...
And I could go on, there are so many beautiful memories that make me smile with my heart. Just writing them down made me warm inside and feeling a little dizzy with excitement and contentement.
Nonetheless, I still thought of the bad ones.
But this picture portrays a dear memory to me: I was about 16 or 17 (not a child anymore, I guess) and I remember that I was doing the laundry in the big room. My Mom came back from the store and she put something on the little table where we do our hair. She told me: "It's for you, for all the work that you've done." I think I cried with happiness, it was a genuine gesture of kindness. I didn't expect anything, we were not having extras since we were so many at home and this was an extra for me. She knew I was crazy about Anne Geddes and her beautiful baby pictures and she found this doll at the store and thought of me. I can tell you I was the happiest girl then.
I used to write sooo many letters when was younger. I kept all the ones I received. I still do and I miss writing real letters and their touch, their smell and the joy of opening a letter from a friend. But it doesn't have to stop...