Memories are priceless.
Time to time as I walked past a traditional Chinese herbs shop, memories of me savoring a simple snack and how life was rather simple then.
I remembered…
Every day as I alighted from the school bus, I would immediately run towards the Chinese herbs shophouse that opens at an old estate. I would often dash into the shop, greets the elderly storekeeper and climb up to this tall metal stool that leads me to a huge glass container full of sour, salty plums. I would look at the storekeeper while pointing to the glass container excitedly asking for a piece. Hoping to get the biggest piece but the lady seems to be half asleep while choosing it. As I try to look a ten-cent change from my purse, the lady would then wrapped one into a piece of squarish pink wrapper.
I was like a happy bee with the plum in my pocket as I head back home. I would then hurriedly take my lunch and head straight with my homework. I would lay the plum at my desk, next to my books and would lick the plum every few minutes. Savoring every bite as though it was a precious gem. Yes! Indeed a precious gem, the only snack that I purchase with my savings and I have to learn to strategize just so it will last me the whole day. Right after homework, I would park myself on the sofa for some “me” time. Watching cartoons while holding the plum on my hand, nibbling once every few minutes. Enjoying the simple flavors. And right before dinner, I would wrap the plum back into the pink wrapper and place it inside my bag. Making sure no one knows I’m secretly buying snacks home. I’ll bring it back again when I’m done with dinner and with another round of studying time. It acts as a reinforcer. back then, it seems like a strong reinforcer to get me to finish off task I dread most. The best part happens when I could finally take bigger bites as the day ends. Eventually finishing every bit and seeing the clean smooth seed as the end product. It’s like a chain cycle, this happens daily.
Looking back, life is simple back then. It only gets complicated as we start requesting more. The good old days have taught me to be grateful for every little and simple thing that has happened. More is less, simple with joy.
reminiscence the good old days. bits and pieces from my childhood memories.
