Editor's Note
Memories of my childhood are saturated. They're brighter, for some reason. Those memories taste like a specific brand of chips and smell like lemonade on a hot day. Most of my childhood was spent wishing I was older, which is funny now, considering I would go back in time in a heartbeat if I ever got the chance. It's painful to know that I can't go back, no matter what happens, I can never go back. But I guess that's the point, isn't it? Childhood is only special because it ends, because one day you wake up and the world is duller and your favourite brand of chips have been discontinued and lemonade hasn't tasted the same in a long, long time. Maybe this feeling of constant longing is the only comfort we have - the knowledge that even if we messed it up, even if it could have been better, our childhood was good enough for us to want it back. Perhaps nostalgia is the only home we get. A home filled with life-sized kitchen sets and barbie phones, a backyard with a pair of lonely swings that go so fast it feels like you can fly. Every ceiling has glowing stars stuck to it, every wall is decorated with colourful scribbling. A home that feels like your grandparents' hugs and the wave of joy you'd feel when you spotted your parents in the crowd while performing a play. A home built upon pinky promises and 'mother swears.' My childhood feels like a lingering ghost that follows me around and haunts my every waking moment.
So, dear reader, this edition of our newsletter is for all of you that are always filled with longing for the past. Here's a chance to relive all those memories you may have lost. And remember - pause and stare and the sky once in a while. These moments will soon turn into memories that will haunt you - don't let them slip away.
- Hita Kaul (XII-A)
(Writing and Editing Team Mentor)