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235愛的鼓勵 133訂閱站台

[Cantaloupe - painting by Marlene Robins]

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Memories are vague in those early days of my life.

It's as if one day I had just finished 3rd grade in Singapore, and then the next day I was in Iran!
We probably were kindly hosted by my father's coworkers, and if a first impression of Iran has to be picked out, it would have to be this new, funny smelling, orange or green colored fruit: the cantaloupe.

Before we arrived, I overheard the parents remarking about how we'd probably live in a tent; because I think one of my father's friend, had sent a photo of him riding a camel in Isfahan. We jumped to the conclusion that we'd be all be living in a desert.

Waking up the very next day of our arrival, the "dryness" surprise: our lips cracked, our mouths' inside blistered, our palms cracked, the soles of our feet cracked. We used this newly encountered hand cream, this blue container branded as "Nivea"on our hands and feet.

For our parched insides, we were given this strange new fruit, translated literally to be "Hami melon" (Cantaloupe). This fruit saved our cracked lips and blistered insides of our mouths. I would always be reminded of those early days of dryness in Iran whenever I see or smell this fruit.

The air in Iran's probably filled with plenty of particles too, because my brother and I had a great time picking bugaboos from our noses! It was fun for us boys! For this "thingy" at the tip of a boy's finger is a mighty weapon!

Old memories are sort of like an old tape. It needs time and proper trigger to be induced to the fore-front. It'll be interesting to see what else can be recalled by thinking really hard about those days long gone by.

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