Updated: Jan 10
This essay is about some of my random childhood memories.
I grew up a small, simple house, in a small street lined with other houses. We used to share the house with one dog, two cats, and in a short period of time, a hen. When I was 10, on a visit to my grandparents, my uncle, a farmer, gave the hen to us so we can turn it into chicken salad. That plan was cancelled after I found out that the hen was laying eggs. I negotiated with my parents that we would butcher the hen after she finished giving eggs. They agreed. Some weeks later, when my parents saw that I had developed a strong bond with the hen, they let me keep it. The hen stayed with us in the house as a pet until my parents convinced me that our house was too small for her, and she would be happier to stay in my aunt's garden.
My hometown was a small town. Although it wasn't a city, the town wasn't a countryside either. My mom tried her best to teach me about nature when I was at a young age. When we visited my grandparents in the country, she took me out to the garden and showed me the vegetables, the fruits, the herbs.
These memories from my childhood were becoming clearer recently, after I had some time reflecting on my first 30 years of journey through life.
This photo is from our family photo catalog.
I don't know how to end this blog post, so that's that.