Childhood memories are strange because sometimes I can't be sure if I remember anything. Someone said that spending your whole childhood wishing would grow up, and then spending the entire adult life hoping to become a child, that's right! On the hustle and bustle of life, accidentally bumped into small corners that in my childhood years, it was the whole world. At those moments, for a few seconds, watching fragments of old memories pour-over, suddenly wishing I were a kid, coming back to the day when I could sit on my father's shoulder and I went everywhere, playing with friends in the neighborhood, there are so many beautiful memories as a child and I miss it.
Growing up in the countryside, a place full of sun and wind, I experienced genuine things that the towns rarely find. In my hometown, after each harvest of rice came the kite-flying season of the children in the village. That day, every afternoon, as soon as we finished school, I rushed home, some of my friends in such a hurry that we could not change clothes and eat, but brought kites to the harvested fields near our home to play. I love to fly kites, until sunset but I still haven't come back, I always wait until my parents call before returning home.
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My father was the one who taught me how to make a kite. And I still remember how he taught me how to make a kite that could fly high, step by step choose bamboo branches that are very flexible and bent into a frame so that the bamboo will not break. After bending the frame, I will stick the paper and attach the tail to the kite. I even don't need to buy the paper because I make use of the unused notebooks and the tail of the kite just cuts the paper long and then uses glue to stick together, depending on the size of the kite, it can be long or short. In the end, it was the hardest of finding a kite string, the perfect option for me was to go into my mother's sewing basket, steal threads to make a string and I thought it was more risky work than that I did. The kids in my village always make colorful and big kites but not that the kites are flying high, so in order to fly a kite high, I always run a distance. As the kite flew into the air, I began to slowly release the string, until the kite was hovering in the air, I would fix the string. My friends and I often gather together to compete to fly the kite and which kites fly the highest, the winner will be the leader in the group for a week. I remember forever the picture of my friend, he won this kite flight competition, but then his kite broke its rope and flew away, looking at it sadly but we couldn't help but we laugh. After that, I used to lie down on the paddy field, not feeling as interesting as lying on my back in the land, looking up at the kites flying in the wind. The feeling of cool, lightheaded as if to fly with the kite, and the same feeling that made me never forget when I saw a kite flying and the kites like wings of free birds flying high, dropping my dreams into the clouds floating in the wind.
Childhood - just that simple, it is not the greatest milestone of life but will be the most beautiful memory, the most beautiful sky to remember. The children flying kites together are grown up now, each one in each place. I don't know if anyone still remembers the memories of the past, but for me, I still remember. The kites are still beautiful memories, reminiscent of the sweetest memories of my childhood. Childhood will be something that is always carried around, neatly folded in a drawer called 'memories', so that when I am tired, bored or hopeless, I have something to see, to experience and to remember.
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