The Summer Evening

By Olivia Mukherjee, 13, California

My earliest memory is but a blur. Fragmented parts of a scene. There are people, but their features are hazy. There are places and things, but they dance on the fringe of my memory.

I recall letting out a squeal of delight as I first caught sight of my uncle. I ran across the room, greeted by a warm bear hug. It was midafternoon, and with the heat nearing ninety degrees, I needed no extra warmth. I pulled away and raced over the ottoman, letting the cool air of the nearby fan wash over me.

Soon I was huddled in my mother’s lap, staring at the high ceilings, my hand keeping the sun out of my face.  My curly hair was frizzy, standing up as though electrocuted, hazel in the bright sun. My cheeks were rosy and plump, making up about fifty percent of my face.  

Minutes later I was lost in telling a story of tigers, fairies, and cattle. Getting lost in my own narratives was a frequent occurrence, and there was no better way to spend a scorching August afternoon. I remember the bemused expressions of my family, my uncle wielding a camera capturing this amusing encounter. My narrative stretched out over an hour, with repeated plots, and the continuous addition of new characters. Another talking bird, or maybe a lion.

There was no storyline, really, just a disordered jumble of brainstorming by a five-year-old. I could soon feel my listeners’ attention drifting, so I started adding more details. The tiger had razor-sharp nails, the cows were blue and yellow. And then the sun was setting, and three hours had elapsed since my story first started. Finally, with a dramatic flourish, I stood up, brushed myself off, and said the words “The End.”

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The book “Educated” by Tara Westover encouraged me to write this, after the main character, Tara, thinks in retrospect of her “earliest memory” as a child. It was difficult to write details of my earliest memory, as it was not something particularly remarkable at the time, and therefore not something I felt the need to recall in the years to come. The story takes place in Delhi, the capital city of India. This particular day was even warmer than usual, and this story depicts how the day was spent from a child’s perspective.

Photo by Daiga Ellaby