To remember my childhood is not merely to scatter words on blank pages. It is to stir up a symphony of dreams, emotions, and sensations. To recall my past is to revisit the magic of playing soccer with my brothers and friends, the places, smells, flavors, and music that etched themselves into my memory, shaping the person I am today. My childhood was filled with simplicity and scarcity. New clothes were few, and industrialized toys were non-existent—except for the soapbox carts and makeshift scooters we created. Instead, we had vast spaces, green fields, trees, and dreams. Life seemed so simple and effortlessly joyful.

The quarrels of my parents left scars on my soul—the constant misunderstandings, temperamental outbursts, and lack of respect. Over time, I learned that we cannot change people; we must love and accept them as they are. Despite the violence and abuse, they instilled in me a strong moral and ethical foundation. When I close my eyes, I can still hear my father’s voice recounting tales of his youth. In moments of good humor, he could be a sweet person. My mother was an exceptional seamstress, sewing everything from shirts to sophisticated dresses for parties. I cherish the joyful memories of my childhood, carefree days on the streets, and reading comic books that enriched my imagination.

Memories burn within me like fragments of dreams and desires. They nourish me, helping me become the best version of myself each day. We are composed of fragmented stories that accompany us through life. By reflecting and regrouping, we become aware of our value as human beings. Living fearlessly and finding joy without reason may be the key to happiness and peace.

Peace & Love! ❤️🙏

©️ Beatriz Esmer