Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Remembering is sometimes the hardest thing to do

I often try to remember my childhood. I am not talking about being 6 or 8 but 3 or 4 years of age. The memories are few. Sometimes popping in and out like the face of a child playing peek-a-boo. It is amazing the things you remember when you try hard enough. I can recall playing with a tall yellow stuffed giraffe. Probably the only memory I have of living with my parents at a young age. It’s funny that the memory was not of them but a frigging stuffed animal.

I have been told that my entrance into this world was a rather easy one. I was born in this small clinic three blocks from Port of Spain General Hospital. I have passed my manger several times since then and its looks so nondescript. I could not imagine anything sanitary existing in there. That is where I was born – the building on the corner of lost memory lane and I forgot boulevard.

We lived on Gloster Lodge Road in Belmont. The house is still there. The houses on the block are small. The roads are extremely narrow. And everyone seems to be fighting to get in their driveway. People from Belmont will know what I mean. My father worked at the mental hospital and my mother for some company that probably went out of business a long time ago. So there we lived - my sister, mother, father, me, and the tall yellow stuffed giraffe.

I have no memory of my parents until I was much older. In fact, I can’t recall ever seeing a picture of me as a young boy with my parents. I guess it was the late 60’s and a lot of people in Trinidad did not own cameras. The thought of being in a picture with my children comes so easy to me. Damn those British for not leaving us a boat load of cameras when we won independence.

Anyway, I continue to flex my mental muscle and try to remember my childhood when my parents still lived in Trinidad. But I think that cupboard may be empty except for that tall yellow stuffed Giraffe!

No comments:

Post a Comment