Minguel s.o. Pascual

On the 6th of July, seventeen years ago, a darling little boy came into my life.

His name is Minguel.

I was speechless when his parents asked me to be his godmother. I was all of eleven years old and technically, not the right age for the job. But my uncle and aunt were set - they wanted Minguel's godparents to be closer to him in age, thereby understanding him better and being his friends first.

When we went to see the newest budle of joy gifted to our family, my uncle took me out into the hospital corridor and said he wanted to ask me something. My mum and dad were there, grinning from ear to ear - they already knew. I think back now, to all those years ago - I didn't really understand the importance and preciousness of the moment. I hugged my uncle and said yes and then went back to my aunts room and hugged the new mommy. Now, my heart grows heavy with pride as I remember those moments.

Minguel was christened soon after and I remember writing a poem for him then, my little godchild. He ruled my world and life revolved around him eating, drinking milk, burping, peeing, farting - babies, I tell you!

He was 2 before I knew it. I watched him eat shawarmas, sing little songs, pronounce my name 'mondala' - I still don't get that, but I loved it! His folks let his hair grow just a bit and he had the cutest little pony tail!

One of my favorite memories of him is when Dad and I got back home one evening and we saw Minguel and his Dad in the distance, getting back from the supermarket (we lived in the same building). It was dark, so at first he wasn't sure who we were. Then he heard my voice and te realisation that struck!! My little munchkin came running towards me, in that adorable way that only little kids do and he leapt into my open arms, as if I had just gifted him all the candy in the world.

Let's just say that if I wrote about my memories of the little Minguel, it would be full of exclamations and smileys!! He's a special lil' guy who holds, no...owns, a special part of my heart.

His family have since then migrated to a new country. Minguel has grown up there, but when I speak to him on the phone, he is still the same boy with a heart of gold. He's ridiculously tall and wears glasses. He loves football and a ton of other sports. He's a good student and a good son. And no matter how old he gets, he'll always be my godchild.

He'll always be my little pony tailed angel, named for a grandfather I never met, but belonging to a boy I'll always love.

Happy 17th Birthday, my little one.

The Wonder Years

Kids today have a lot don't they?

Parties don't mean pin the tail on the donkey anymore. It's pottery, glass painting, swimming pools. They're so fast and smart and 'switched on' at the tender age of 7.

It made me think of my childhood. And my heart smiled.

When I was a kid, we did the simple things.

Going on holiday to Bombay meant leaving all my toys back home, save one Barbie who roamed the world in my backpack. I missed them and Bombay in July (read as 'monsoons') wasn't that much fun.

Then Dad made me a dolls house from a cardboard box. He cut out windows on either side with a blade. He colored in doors with a black marker. Mum gave me lovely hankys to use as beds and sheets and curtains for my newest toy. It was a lovely holiday!

I'm an only child. Weekends were at home, with my folks and family. They were the best times ever. One uncle would get me a book every weekend, without fail. The adults played cards and I read, blissfully happy! As I grew older, I never really got the hang of cards, but there some games I loved - Yahtzee, Canasta, Scrabble.

I smile as I type, even now, so many years later :)

We used to do puzzles together. By 'we' I mean the whole family. We had one puzzle, about 1000 or 2000 pieces, of bread.

Different types of bread - loaves, slices, with nuts, in baskets on plates, you name it and it was on the puzzle! It took us about a month to complete it, during which time it totally occupied our dining table. Every Thursday night (our weekend), we'd sit up late, piecing together baguettes, ryes, multigrains and fruit breads.

When we completed it, we were all thrilled. We looked at it happily for another week. Then we messed it up and put it back in the box. *grin* We had our fill of bread memories.

In the evening when homework was done, our house was always a fun place to be. Mum taught me to scrapbook and we'd spend hours on it together. We'd hold up the bubble blowing thingy in front of the air conditioner and the bubbles would race out at top speed! Dad taught me how to dance. (At this point, even a smiley doesn't do enough justice)

I'd sit with mum in the kitchen and talk to her as she cooked. On occasion, I'd stand on a stool and wash the dishes as delicately as I though possible. Needless to say, mum watched as I broke a few over the years. She never shouted at me, God bless her!

Dad taught me to make banana milk shakes with ice-cream. And limbu (fresh lime) soda in an iced up glass, with the top lined in salt. sugar and a dash of pepper.

YUM! I'll make it sometime soon and post a picture.

In the middle of all these times, when I was all of 11 years old, my godchild was born.

*smiles*

But that's another post all together.

The simple things were the best things, weren't they? I'm sure you've got some 'simple' memories. Share them if you like. It makes the heart smile. :)