Category: Childhood Memories

Entering the park, remnants of my childhood memories started to re-emerge. A slight breeze rustled the leaves making them fall to the concrete ground one by one. The air was warm, and the beams of sunlight glowed onto my skin, providing me with comfort. The sounds of parents playing with their children was enough to completely push me back in time and pour my mind with sentimental memories.

My late father and I would spend every summer afternoon in the local park right after he picked me up from school. We would lie on our backs and stare at the sky, observing the swirling clouds transform into fantastical shapes. We would grip imaginary weapons and spar, thrusting our swords as if we were ninjas. My earliest memories are filled with images of my father in these moments, laughing as he marched into the large sandpit and gently pushing me on the swings. And now, as I stand on the same park, almost fifteen years later, I can’t help but think of the pain that he experienced during his final years.

My father would often travel overseas and be absent for months on end before returning home. As an author, he ventured out into new territories to help stimulate his imagination. When he did return, he would read aloud his novel as I listened fervently.

In each trip, he was always looking for a perfect place; a place he believed was more spectacular than the Seven Wonders of the World that would help him write the most evocative novel. It was his obsession. His life’s work had all been spent on attempting to find one. Whenever he was home, I would sit outside the door, my knees cuddled into my chest, and listen to the sound of his pen scrawling away. His heavy sighs and the sound of crumpling paper often seeped through the walls. Every now and again, he would burst through the door, gleefully picking me up and spinning around in excitement. We would dance around the living room and sing joyously. However, as time progressed, those moments occurred less and less.

Despite how much I wanted to avoid it, his sickness was something I had known for a while. His great voyages out across the world gradually came to a stop and his time at home seemed to linger on forever. He locked himself in his study, consumed by the desire to finish the novel he was attempting to write. The disease rooted deep within his mind grew, puncturing every memory it could find with its deadly thorns. He became irrational, obsessed with finishing his novel and finding the perfect place before it became too late. He would often find me sitting outside his room. However, instead of his warm gesture, he would thrust a pale, slender arm towards the living room, yelling, “Go away!”.

The father I once idolized was now nothing more than an old bitter man. I could recall the many times when he would pack his leather suitcase only to remember that he no longer had anywhere to travel to. One day, my mother and I heard a loud thud transpire from within my father’s study. Immediately rushing over, we pounded on the door with the sides of our fists, praying that nothing had happened to him. When he emerged from within, streams of sweat came pooling down the sides of his frail face. On the ground, the novel he was working on lay defeated, with ripped pages flying everywhere.

Pulling myself out of the past, I fastened my mind back into the present. It destroyed me to think that my father had died a broken, defeated man, one who lost track of who he originally aspired to be. My father had once taught me to dream and follow through with my goals. I hoped his inner self was still present when he passed. I pulled out the unfinished novel he was working on, with pages glued back together, and placed it on a tree stump situated at the very heart of the park.

The perfect place was already in front of him the entire time. The park.

Even though I was a young girl, I always had a feeling that I knew more about my situation than what I was being told. I had a tough life growing up and as a result, I was unhappy growing up. I was an empath, and it gave me the ability to be able to feel things, such as telling the intentions of other people, and depending on the type of person or situation I was in, I would absorb either negative or positive energy. For example, if I was around a positive person, my face would light up if I was talking to them. However, if I was around someone negative, I would have no interest in talking to them and I would not show any emotion. I was always nice to the people around me, no matter how they would react.

I was very shy in my childhood. I have autism, which can be a common symptom because of the communication issues that come with the diagnosis. When I was in school, I went to regular classrooms like the other kids did, but due to my disabilities, I occasionally went to a resource room, which helped me with anything I needed help with. I was diagnosed in 2005, and my second-grade teacher noticed symptoms. I would cry and would get upset when the kids in my class would try to touch me because I did not like being touched, and I would get frustrated easily. I went to a doctor at Riley Hospital when they first suspected I had autism. The doctor who was giving me a diagnosis had been told that both of my biological parents had been deceased, but when I was only a baby, my father had only seen me one time, and all my life I had been told that my stepfather was my biological father.

I knew that when I was being told this, that something was not right. It just did not line up, I felt. Why was I told this, did the family I lived with know something that I didn’t? Were they trying to hide something to “protect” me? I did not know, but I had that feeling in my gut that something was just not what it seemed. Maybe they did not trust me, who knows?

Growing up, I lived with my younger brother and sister’s grandmother and step-grandfather. My siblings lived with them because their father had died when they were only babies. They did not get to know him, unfortunately. I would always ask their grandmother about my biological dad, but she said that she could not tell me any information, but I knew better. She explained to me how my father was at Goodwill in Anderson when he saw me. I was born in Anderson, and it is where I live to this day.

I did not understand why I did not have my dad in my life when I was growing up. I had people try to brainwash me against him and they would tell me that he made no other effort to see me since then, but it came from people who knew nothing at all about the situation, so I never not to listen to any of it. What good is it going to do trying to explain something to me that was only my business and no one else’s? It was very frustrating to deal with. I was starting to get a bad feeling that people only wanted to talk to me because they wanted to find out about my personal life, but I was not about to let that happen, being the introverted type and not being able to trust many people. I understand if someone knew if there was something wrong because I did not say much, but at that moment, it just hurt too much for me to make mention of.

I had always been looking online to see if I could find any information on my father. Besides his name, I did not know much. I found his Facebook profile one day, so I sent a friend request to him. One time, I was on there and I was looking through his posts. One caught my eye. He was talking about how he missed his son Chris and for him to call him if he saw the post.

As I was looking at my dad’s friends list, I saw that he had three of them whose names were Chris. I sent a message to one of them, and I told him who my dad was soon after, they sent me a message telling me who their mother and father were, and I was ecstatic when he told me his father’s name, which was my father too and from that day, I found out that I had an older brother. I messaged him back and I said yes, that the guy was my father too, I said he was glad that I had contacted him and told me that my dad had been trying to look for me for years.

As we chatted for a bit, he asked me how old I was and I told him that I was eighteen at the time. I saw on his profile that he was fourteen years older than me. I asked him where our dad lived and he gave me his address and phone number so that I could contact him. Later on, I called my dad on the phone and said hi to him and we talked. He asked me if I was still in school and I told him I had graduated early on that year and I told me how my brother called him after I got hold of my brother on Facebook. My older brother went to our dad’s house after we set up a time and date so I could meet them, it was such a wonderful experience.

A month later, I got to meet my older brother’s mother. She told me that when I was only a baby, my mother had said that she wanted me all to herself, and that is how I was kept from my dad. My mother passed away in 2006. I was glad that I was finally being told the truth about what happened. In 2018, my dad passed away in his sleep. I was devastated.

My Grandpa Dennis had passed away two months earlier in his sleep, two months before my dad and on the same date, so they died two months apart. I also got to meet my Grandpa Dennis the same week I met my dad. It was not fair to me for only having been able to not have my dad around all my life, I am so thankful to have met him. Unfortunately, I know that other people in the world are going through or have been through similar struggles, but I hope that they can find closure, we may never understand why people hurt us or do the things they do. On December 30, 2019, I finally forgave my mother for what she had done. It changed my life and I got to share my experience with others, it was heartbreaking but others found it helpful. 

When recalling my childhood memories, there are many stories. Some of them makes me happy, but some of them are not good ones. Well, I grew up in Rewasa village, one of the most beautiful and scenic places in Ra, and one of my favorite childhood memories was going on a hunting trip with my dad. I grew in up in family of six, including my parents. My mum works as a market master and my dad also works, but during his free time he would love taking us out on a pig hunting trip. One fine early morning, my dad, sibling and me decided to went for a hunting trip, and the funny part was this would be my first hunting trip. We woke up around six am to a huge morning breakfast that mum had actually prepared. The odor of the egg and toast made me lively. I rose and put my clothes on and then went and had tasty breakfast.

When I was consuming, I would feel the sense that my dad, siblings and me were going to have a lot enjoyable. I understand that if we didn’t catch any pig is what we were going to hunt we would still have a fantastic experience. I likewise thought to myself that this will be the best hunting journey I will ever be on. Considering I’ve never been on a searching trip. My dad used to set traps for these wild pigs that usually appeared at night to destroy the villagers crops and vegetation. My siblings were so confident about all this hunting trip while me on the other hand were excited and nervous simultaneously. When we reached the hunting site, we all could sense the movement and the wailing of pigs from a far. And here comes the favorite part of this hunting trip: my dad would set for about three to four traps for these wild pigs and our job is to chase these pigs because obviously they’re wild and I was the only girl in these hunting trip. Yes, only girl learning something new can be a scary experience. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was to chase these pigs, but as I was always afraid of wild pigs, but like my dad used to say “Be bold”. I was bold enough to chase these pigs but the hilarious part was being chased by wild pigs. There comes a time when instead of chasing the pigs, the pigs chased me. Luckily, I climbed over a branch of tree. Branch to the rescue! My siblings and dad died laughing about this situation. I nearly cried while being chased, all I could think of was where would I end up if that stupid pig had caught me. But as time went by, I was able to adapt to this new experience with the help of my dad.

Things were not quite easy for me, but my dad was very patient. Learning to chase pigs was tough, but in the end my persistence paid off. Not only did I learn how to chase pigs and to conquer my fear, but I also learned something about hunting. Now when I am faced with a new situation, I am so nervous, I may feel uncomfortable to begin with, but I know that as I practice being in that situation and as my skills get better, I will feel more and more comfortable.

At some point in my childhood, my friends and I went outside to play together for the last time. Years later I am still keeping in touch with some, but we all know how most long-distance relationships go. You intend on keeping up with plans of hanging out as much as possible on breaks from school, but we didn’t always follow through. We hardly ever did, yet somehow the love and friendship remained.

As the saying goes, “You never know what you have until it’s gone,” and when we lost William in December 2017 to a car crash, the resentment I felt towards us all for not trying harder to see each other bubbled under the surface of my skin. William’s passing didn’t just massive affect his family and friends, it touched football players and coaches across San Diego County, even the news who knew him as a stud player on the field. He was going to go to great places after high school. Staff members at Granite Hills were wounded by the fact that they had lost such a kind soul who understood the importance of creating relationships with these adults who want the best for their future. Everyone deserves a hello and goodbye – simple acts of kindness. His death even served as a lesson and movement for safe driving. Wearing a seatbelt isn’t something to choose whether or not to do. No matter how close or far the drive is, wearing that safety equipment can and will save your life.

A few weeks later, I lost my childhood best friend in the whole wide world to suicide. This was an absolute shock yet proves that we can never truly tell just by looking at someone what is going on inside their hearts and minds. I carry that lesson with me every day.

These two individual events opened up an immense hole in my chest that began to fill with despair, rage, and questions I never thought I’d ask. The most overwhelming emotion that I felt and feel to this day is guilt. Deep, unrelenting, ugly guilt. No, I wasn’t the reason either of these boys died before reaching the age of 18 or getting to go to prom with their friends, graduating high school, or committing to a college they were excited about. I felt guilty because I got to do those things, and my whole life up until that point, I had taken my happiness, mental stability, and the thought that I would eventually see them again for granted.

Over the past almost two years of them being gone, I have let myself be gutted, I have let these feelings open me up to the world and see the love and light that everyone deserves. This goes for me as well. On Easter in 2018, I prayed the Salvation Prayer at the end of the service at the Rock Church Point Loma location. That was my first church experience since early childhood, and I was so moved it brought me to tears. All my life I had turned away from the Lord because I was afraid to believe. I did not understand that for me to find the peace love and acceptance I wanted for others in life, I needed to bring His love, acceptance, and truth into my own heart and everyday life. Trusting yourself means living out what you already know to be true, and I know that every last one of us can do better than to give in fear. His love is not as incomprehensible as I pretended. It can be as light as an embrace we give a friend or as heavy as the sacrifices we make for our loved ones. It has the power to stand on its own.

The loss of my friends has started a growth and acceleration of maturity in me that I don’t think could have happened any other way. I made it, didn’t I? I have had to do more than hold on, I have had to reach. I choose happiness every day of my life, even on the worst days when the bad feelings creep back in hoping to stay. I choose to live my truth and the truth is that this life is a gift and to do the work of becoming a whole, grown-up adult, it remains that no matter what happens, they will always be gone. It’s still a struggle to wrap my head around. No one can intervene and make that right, and nobody will. It’s just how it is, and I’ve had to survive that, endure that, live through that and I found God through that. I am moving forward, and I am so much better for it. Because it does get better. This life, this tiny beautiful thing, is what I am here for and I am so ready for what is next to come. I want my behavior and words to deeply impact those around me for the better. My journey with God may be new and I am still learning, but it gives me great peace to know that before they passed, they both accepted the Lord into their hearts. Even in the darkest of cracks, Trevor saw the light.

In my second year of college now, I have made it my mission to study mental health through my psychology major, as well as always doing my best to notice those who need some extra love and light in their days, whether they realize it or not. I used to believe that God robbed me of my friends, but now I know that their lives and deaths hold so much meaning. I can look at myself now and know that with all the pain this world has thrown my way, here I stand making gold of it. I have made radical changes in my life, flipping a 180 on what I previously believed to be true. This genuine healing, and actual “real deal down-on-your-knees-in-the-mud change,” as Cheryl Strayed put it, was entirely and absolutely up to me.

The unifying theme of my childhood and incoming adulthood is resilience and faith. My past experiences have helped me accomplish strength and nerve. And “if your Nerve, deny you,” as Emily Dickinson wrote, “go above your Nerve.” I am the agent of power in my life but that will always be a little scary, the way it always is when we’re brave enough to touch the realest, rawest truths.

“You may think it’s important to be one of the cool kids. You may treat people poorly to fit in. You may think different means less. You may believe you are a loser. Don’t…It’s stupid that ‘cool’ matters so much. It’s disgusting that different matters at all. You may think people should be accepted. You may realize everyone deserves respect. You may want to love them. You may want to love me…” – Trevor Daniel Barnes.

Thank you, William and Trevor, for growing up with me, even after you’ve been gone. 

Eating brownies with my mom was the best bonding experience, until an unforeseen occurrence took place after my tenth birthday: I was left despising the very thing I loved the most.

With me having no fondness towards cake, cookies were always a go to for my birthday parties. I felt as though I had tried every cookie in the galaxy by the age of nine sugar, snickerdoodle, peanut butter and various other kinds. I was about to finally hit double digits and although cake wasn’t an option, me and my mother both agreed it was time to try something new. We headed to the supermarket and down the aisle full of baked goods. Straightaway, my eyes became glued to the red and Brown Betty Crocker delights box. I turned and asked my mother what the image was on the box, “walnut brownies”, remarked my mother. Without any thought the words “I want these” had slipped out of my mouth.

Without delay, we grabbed all the boxes on the shelf and went home to begin baking. “Eggs, water, vegetable oil, pan, bowl, and whisk”, – my mother read out loud as I got all the items, we would need to make these goodies I was seeing on the front of the Betty Crocker box. I was moving so fast that one of the eggs slipped right off the counter and onto the floor. My mother comforted me by expressing how much better it would be if used one egg instead of two. I swiftly wiped my frown away and began to dump all the ingredients into one giant bowl. I can still remember the vibration of the black and decker mixer as the brownie mix flew out of the bowl and onto the cabinets. I could never forget the love and passion my mother and I put into baking those delicious brownies. It seemed as though our bond with one another grew stronger with every batch of brownies we mixed and popped into the oven.

It was December 16, 2012 that I had received one of the most memorable birthday celebrations ever. I was given my first square of a supreme walnut brownie. The room grew silent as everyone was served their piece of brownie which filled the room with a sweet aroma. The warmth and crunch of the walnuts along with the flavor of the chocolaty flaky brownie as my teeth sunk into it is something I still crave present day. However, my love for these wonderful brownies was unfortunately short lived. I awoke with my face completely red and covered in hives the next day. I felt as though someone had released a million fire ants onto my face. My doctor informed me and my mother that I was allergic to chocolate and could no longer eat the very thing I had begun to fall in love with, brownies.

Brownies had a significant impact on my childhood. Childhood is the most innocent phase of anyone’s life. With the passage of time, it fades into adolescence and adulthood. Yet the sweet memories of childhood linger on threw the simplest things. For me brownies are that simple thing that connects me to childhood. Memories are the little things that keep this world running smoothly. I couldn’t imagine completely giving up brownies, even if it gives me hives.

As human beings we all have memories about the best place that we liked a lot, especially when we were young. Because as we grow up, those memories grow with us and became part of our lives. In my case I have seen pretty much places that were fascinating me, but the only place that I can never forget was the ‘Djurdjura Mountains’ where I used to go when I was young. Simply because it was the most marvelous place that I had never seen.

When I was a child, I remember I used to go with my uncle, my brother and my cousin to the mountains. Every time when my uncle came to my home on weekends, I was so excited and happy because I know that he came only just to take us me and my brother with him on this journey to the mountains. The name of this place is ‘Tala Guilef’, and it is about two hours’ drive from my city. I remember I loved going to this place on spring because there were always a lot of things to see, especially for people like me who were fascinated by the beauty of the nature. Tala Guilef is just a small mountain within the biggest range of mountains in this area, which is called ‘The Djurdjura’. It is the biggest mountain range in Algeria with a highest peak called ‘Lalla Kedidja’ and an elevation of 7,572 feet. Since these mountains are very high, they are well covered by a white coat of snow throughout the winter and spring time, and people from different towns came to this area just to admire and take pictures of this wonderful and amazing sight. Also, these mountains are well known by waterfalls that were cumulated from the rains and the melting of the snows.

Going to these mountains reminds me that I am just a small creature in this immense world, and no one can challenge the force of this nature, so when I watched at these mountains I was just puzzled. As a child I loved going there and exploring these big and wild mountains and at the same time admiring the beauty of this landscape. Furthermore, the tranquility and the quietness of this nature made this place so different from the other places that I have already seen. The two only things that I could hear were the sleepy whistling of the birds going along with the swish of the small streams and waterfalls. In addition to this, they were different varieties of flowers with different colors and scents. So, just sitting there and watching to this nature I felt the sensation of being relaxed and distressed.

Moreover, these mountains are so tempting for people because there are different kinds of animals there; like hedgehogs, wolves, boars, and monkeys, but what I had seen was just monkeys. I remember when we arrived to this place, a group of bothering monkeys tried to approach us with hesitation in order to get something to eat. In short, those animals just gave an embroider aspects to these mountains in order to attract visitors.

When our journey had finished, and it was time to go back home, I remember I was sad and unhappy, and I wished that those trips to these mountains will never end, simply because this place was fascinating me, and gave me the feeling of relaxation and enthusiasm that I was searching for. As an adult now, this place is still my mind, and sometimes I just keep remembering my joyful and pleasant moment spent there.

For most people, their worst childhood memories are of playground scuffles or getting in trouble. Not for me though, my earliest memories are of me finding out about my dad’s affair and his smoking addiction. Growing up, I knew there was something broken about my family. My home was always one full of incessant fighting, friction and worry. I didn’t realize how bad it was until everything was suddenly ripped out from underneath me.

It all started when I was 8-years old. I was bright for my age, yet my dad believed me naive enough to think that she was just a friend. I only remember bits and pieces from the day he took me to a woman’s house behind my mom’s back. I recall sitting on a couch, confused and perplexed, but I was smart enough to notice that my dad’s and her interactions seemed anything but friendly. For the longest time, I thought that day was just a dream, a mere figment of my imagination. Or maybe that’s what I forced myself to believe. It wasn’t until I started noticing the phone calls and read the texts from a contact named ‘Work’ on my dad’s phone that my suspicions were confirmed, he was indisputably having an affair. As the years went by, my siblings too became aware of our dad’s infidelity. It was the elephant in the room, the omnipresent thing we could never bring ourselves to discuss.

To make things worse, at the age of 10, I caught my dad smoking. The eerie darkness of that night will never escape my memory. I explicitly remember being awoken by the sound of the front door closing. Looking out of the window, I spotted my dad bringing a cigarette up to his lips. I remember just standing there, watching him as the hazy O-rings he exhaled floated upwards and dissipated in the air. That’s when everything made so much more sense, from his blazing red eyes to the sweet and musty aroma of citrus and pine that always indulged him, he was a smoker. My dad was an addict that couldn’t put the cigarettes down for the love of his kids. He didn’t know that I saw him that night so, like everything else, I kept it a secret. By that point in my life, I thought it couldn’t get any worse, that there was no other way my dad could disappoint me. Boy was I wrong.

The inevitable came when I was 12-years-old. My parents sat my siblings and me down and that’s when my dad uttered the four words that shattered my world, “We’re getting a divorce”. I still remember looking into his eyes and not seeing an ounce of guilt or shame. Shame that he was leaving his four children behind for his mistress. I guess a part of me always mentally prepared myself for that day but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less. I wanted to yell, kick, scream or punch something, but I couldn’t move a muscle. Feeling suffocated and congested, I helplessly stood there with a lump in my throat. It wasn’t until I saw my mom silently crying that a single tear rolled down my cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened.

That same day, through the closed door of my room, came raised voices. I remember trying to distract my 5-year-old brother from the endless shouting, however, the yelling only got louder. As my parents’ voices reverberated throughout the whole house, my siblings and I got all the details of my dad’s affair that we never wanted to know, the who, what, where and when. I can still recall hearing the sound of glass shattering followed by the door shutting. That very night, wrapped in my blanket and cocooned by the protective buffer of the deafening silence, I fell asleep knowing that things would never be the same again.

It’s been years since my parent’s divorce and honestly, I don’t even remember the last time my dad and I exchanged the words ‘I love you’ or the last time he enveloped me in a warm hug. Yes, it hurts, but at some point in my life, I realized that a daughter shouldn’t have to beg her father for a relationship. So, I decided to put as much effort into contacting him as he does with me, that’s why we don’t talk as much anymore. It’s quite ironic how the man that gave me life, also ruined me, simply by refusing to give a damn. I guess my strained relationship with my dad and having grown up watching my parent’s marriage fall apart taught me to create walls and keep myself emotionally guarded. But at the same time, it also forced me to grow up faster and into a stronger, more resilient and independent woman.

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.

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.

I remember from my childhood trip that it was going to be amazing and interesting. Me, my sister and my parents went to St. Louis, MO for a summer trip. We had to get ready early in the morning to put our luggage in the family car to cruise along the highway. It took about four hours to travel through a lot of towns and cities to arrive at the hotel. I had some thoughts about vacation what would it look like and what kinds of places would be fun with my family. One of the memories that I have experienced was this amusement park called Six Flags. My reasons for this childhood vacation have some deep significance to me and it was having a good quality time with my family.

My favorite part about this trip was going to Six Flags with my sister and my parents. Six Flags was a great amusement park to have a lot of fun for the whole family. There were so many kids and scary rides that really amazed me and some of them just seemed crazy. One of the rides that I did not want to get on was the roller coaster. My reasons for roller coaster can be scary and too high to the sky that it can cause me to get nervous. The amazing part about Six Flags is that it has some fun things and the good foods that I enjoyed with my sister. I had a good experience with this attraction and it was to see the rides that seemed to be interesting and to have fun with these different rides.

I have some thoughts about how it was a fun and amazing city, but it turned out to be a big city with a lot of nice attractions. The whole family went into this museum that has so many types of things such as an aquarium and a kid’s place. We went to the St. Louis Zoo to see all the animals and look at statues of people for some entertainment. Many of these attractions have some amazing fossils and statues of a person, creatures, or other things. I was looking around the city to see the good places that made me want to have a good time for this vacation. It just makes me want to feel that I could come back to this trip to recover all the childhood memories. I did not come back to this town to see any difference that I could remember at that time.

In conclusion, my childhood trip had some deep significance that influenced my life. It just took me back in time that it was going to be an exciting vacation. Me and my family had some good and fun times with the experience of Six Flags. We also explored the whole city to see any fun attractions that can be entertaining for everyone. This was a good impact of my childhood vacation and I had a wonderful time with my family. It has been a fun memory for me that I could go back right now, but I did not go back to St. Louis, MO. The reason for this experience is that I could say that it was the best time of my life.

I have beautiful memories from my childhood walking through the mountains near my house and exploring the huge temple that was surrounded by the oak and poplar trees and laid down lots of leaves to walk in. Through walking at the leaves and watching the artifact that God created to us, I found myself that I was connected to the amazing nature that made me feel lucky to grow up with freedom to explore the natural environment around me and have a connection with my environment and culture.

Thousands of years, Baalbeck was an ancient Phoenician city in Lebanon, its name related to the Roman ruins at Baalbek, ‘Baal’ means Lord and ‘beck’ means Beckaa Valley and that was the place where Baal or Lord first arrived at the earth.

Baalbeck, as the Roman ruins, has an amazing beauty of architecture, chiseled by great ancient Roman. Its ruins have a good connection with nature. The stones can talk beauty, and the sky above is unfolded, blue images mixed with a silver lining. You feel the sun that belongs nowhere but there.

Since my father passed away, my mother decided to build a house there near her parents, and that what happened. I grew up in this house with my sisters, brothers, and grandparents who helped my mom of raising us. I learned a lot of traditions from them and that was during our outdoor activities. Summer in my hometown had different flavors than anywhere else. Between the two mountains and lots of hills, where the air is fresh and the sunrise is like a beautiful bride in her wedding dress, the birds chant across the sky flying from rooftop to rooftop and the green trees surrounded that Roman temple, people celebrate the beginning of the season and gathering all together in Baalbeck, the city of the sun. Adults and kids started their celebration, dancing in a circle to traditional Lebanese music, holding hands and singing altogether. Throughout my experience with nature, that place tattooed in my heart and reminded me about every single minute I enjoyed it being there with my family, grandparents, cousins and friends, with whom we were always walking in the street, splashing in the water, creating things out of the leaves, enjoying the festival in the Roman ruins and followed the sun until it set in the evening, and fell in love with the scent of flowers and trees. Over time, I became curious about how nature was created. It has given me something that has a hard time explaining. I have come to find that the environment is more than we can see, nature gave me the chance to explore what God created for us and what he is capable of. I remembered my teacher when she took us to the ruins and explained the history lesson in the fresh air, and she was always advised us to protect that environment, and repeated Margaret Mead’s quote: “We will not have a society if we destroy the environment”.

I believe that everyone in my culture has the same view, they see that the environment is a gift from God and should be loved and protected in order to have a healthy life, but unfortunately, there are a very few people that don’t care, they tree their trust everywhere and destroyed the environment. Everyone has his own beliefs on how he sees his environment. Those people never changed my feelings about my first place that I was born and explored every single minute I spent it. Baalbek is my city where the Roman temple was built. I’ve lived there for a little longer time before I moved to the USA and got married.

Now as a mother of two little boys, I am always encouraging my kids to play outdoors to explore the nature, and every summer on vacation I visit my country and take my kids to that time that I had gravitated to it. I want them to see and learn about my traditions and cultures. This is what all kids should learn from natural word to love it, protect it and explore, because the freedom they will experience will give them lots of benefits in the future.

There are special days in my heart for every evening, decorated by the stars, moon and flattered fresh crispy gust, I felt it in every deep breath I took, I just wonder how could anybody has the courage to harm the mother nature and disturb the environment that both gave us direct influence on our health and behavior. We should cherish that God gives it to us and join together to protect that blessing and leave our kids a very clean environment.