childhood memories

I'll Cross the Stream

When did it happen? When did I get to be this grumpy old woman? It must have crept up on me slowly, surely. Or maybe it’s because I’ve had to put up with so much that all my reserves of patience have gradually been worn down.

I remember what my mother was like.

Continue reading

My Rebel Story

When I was a child, I was always an honest, good boy.

In the last year of primary school, at least once a day, I hadn't finished my homework. In class, Teacher Zhao came to collect our homework. At that point I lied, and told the teacher I had left my homework at home. I pretended to go home. One of my classmates asked me to stay and submit the homework tomorrow. However, Teacher Zhao asked me to go home.

Continue reading

Calypso Punch

All through the long months of summer, the air would smell of sickly sweet-sour mangoes, as mango trees from every house’s backyard came into full bloom. And in the distance, you could see coconut trees sway gently, their fringed leaves fanning the hot summer breeze. All activity would quieten over the afternoon, very much like a siesta-stop. All the street dogs would rest in the shade, and not even a bird would stir. It was too hot for anything else, other than the Hiptage flowers, which would grow and cover every wall and fence with its gorgeous blooms.

Continue reading