“You can’t leave me here…” the four-year-old started crying. She’d come riding on her father’s bike and had been all smiles until she realized that it was time to leave him.
Everybody laughed at her except one teacher. She took her hands and caressed her head; telling her fairy-tales, she took her to the classroom.
Seeing the girl in a distance, a little boy ran to her; grabbing her schoolbag, he ran back to his bench and placed it beside him so she would go sit with him.
This was a daily scene in my school. Yes, the four-year-old girl was me. However, neither I remember the teacher’s name nor that little boy’s name.
This is my earliest memory.
– Chirasree, a dreamer.
Word count – 119
Written for the prompt – Your earliest memory