One time in first grade we were taking a spelling test, and the word to spell was “kick,” and a boy named Paul raised his hand and asked “Do you mean k-i-c-k?” Of course, everyone giggled and the teacher reprimanded him and the test (and life) went on, and to this day i’m not entirely sure if Paul did it to be a smartass, or if he honestly was thinking of some other kind of kick. I just rememeber being exasperated at not getting points for correctly spelling such an easy word.

But, was i really exasperated? More and more often i find myself looking back at childhood memories that are getting more hazy and more generalized and i’m wondering how much of what i remember is just a fabrication of what i think i felt. Could i have really felt “exasperated” as a first grader? Did i really just giggle like the rest of the class, but in my recollections i make myself out as more mature and collected than i really was at the time.

The subjectiveness of memory frightens me. I don’t mind so much that the colours of everything in my head are getting less and less vivid like a patch of wallpaper that sees too much sun, but the prospect that i’m slowly changing all of my memories to the best representation of how i got how i am rather than what actually made me just isn’t right. Is this why children never believe what their parents tell them?, because their parents have taken all their childhood experiences and twisted them into trite little packages to be doled out before bed? I used to be able to eat candy and sweets endlessly as a child without pause, but now i get a stomach-ache and feel unfocused. Am i doomed to spend the rest of my life making futile efforts to keep candy from the hands of children just because now it spoils my dinner? Or, is this just growing up, and i’m not quite ready yet?