My Childhood Memories

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Before I noticed, my life was flashing before my eyes.
If you were to ask me what the first thing I remembered was, the only answer would be that I don’t have many memories from my early childhood.
Contrary to my mother, whose earliest memory dated back to when she was a baby, my first memory was something that happened when I was four years old, on the morning after Christmas.
We were opening our Christmas presents near the tree.
My mother, my grandfather and my grandmother were there. My father had just left the room to go to the kitchen.
Even though my family wasn’t able to afford many presents, it was a holiday that filled me with happiness and anticipation.
As you can see, I was a normal boy.
I remember hearing a sound at my back and turning to see what it was.
That was the moment I stopped caring for the other presents.
My father had entered the room carrying a bicycle that had a red ribbon pasted in the handle.
I looked in awe, too happy to even move.
Both my father and my mother smiled and said “Marry Christmas son”.
I was happy… No… I was more than happy, I was ecstatic.
It may have been a second hand bicycle, but that didn’t matter to the four year old me.
Now that I think about it, my parents probably had to save money throughout the year to buy that bicycle. Probably even my grandparents had to help a little.
We weren’t, you see, what you could call a wealthy family.
But as I said, I didn’t care about all that.
I was a kid.
And in that very moment, I was a happy
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