There are things we did as children that we didn't know were actually strange.

We thought everybody did them.

Like sitting outside in the evening because there was no light inside.

Or hearing your mother shout your full name from another room, immediately knowing you were in trouble.

We thought it was normal for the whole street to know your business.

You could leave your house to buy something, and somehow three different neighbours had already reported your movement before you got back.

We thought it was normal to sleep at a neighbor’s house without anyone calling to check where we were.

We thought every family had that one big bowl that somehow appeared whenever there was a party.

We thought sachet water was just water.

We thought “go and buy bread” was a simple instruction until we came back with the wrong change.

We thought our parents were unnecessarily strict.

Why can't we stay outside a little longer?

Why can't we visit our friend?

Why must we greet every adult we see?

Why must we sit properly when visitors come?

We didn't understand.

We just obeyed.

And somehow, those little things became memories.

The evening football.

The arguments over whose turn it was.

Hide and seek.

Moonlight games.

Bread and tea.

Saturday mornings.

The sound of someone calling you home when it was getting dark.

Back then, we couldn't wait to grow up.

Now some of us would give anything to have one ordinary evening from those days again.

Funny how childhood works.

You spend it trying to become an adult,

Then adulthood makes you miss being a child.