My childhood memories are mainly just bits and pieces. I do remember some events vividly. My memories are the only things that stay constant. I can pull them out like an old book and retrieve them while the world around me changes so rapidly. My favorite memories are my childhood memories.
I was five years old and living in a small town in Mexico with my mother. My grandparents live in front of my house. They live in this two-story house made of adobe and brick tiles. The front of the house was fixed to be a half store and living room. My grandparents earn their living with that store. I would go over their house every time I had a chance. I used to sit with my grandma and watch television in the store. People would come in the store and I would talk to them. I would ask the people that came in about their children or grandchildren. It was a small town and everyone knew everyone. I made many friends in my grandma store.
My cousin Alma lived beside my house. We were born in the same year but I was three months older. My mother and aunt didn’t get alone but that didn’t matter to us. We spend a lot of time together despite our mother difference. We did almost everything together. We even got in trouble together. Every Sunday we would walk to church in our white-ironed dresses. We would go in church right behind my mother. As we walked in the church we would smell the fresh cut flowers that adorned the church. My mother would walk in the first row and sit living room for Alma and me. We would sit and listen for fifteen minutes and then we would start talking. My mother would always tell me to stop but I never did. She would always end up sitting between the two of us.
I love living in Mexico with my family and friends. On my seventh Christmas my mother tells me she needs to talk to me. I felt my stomach drop. I had lost my gold ring and I did not tell her. She was going to ask for the ring I lost. I walked in the living room