You know what is the best thing about being five years old. It’s that pure joy from little things. A song of a bird or a kitten playing with a mouse in front of your house. Well, that’s exactly how I felt many years ago. It was a nice and hot august Sunday. Everyone was somewhere outside enjoying the sunshine. But our family was headed to my grandma. I didn’t exactly understand why, because things sort of happenend around me. Also, we usually celebrated my birthday at our house, so it was weird to me.
Grandma greeted us from afar, always happy to see us, as all grandmas usually are. She lived in a quite huge house with long stairs leading from the ground to the front door. We went upstairs to the living room. Where already my favorite uncle was sitting, I was curious what wonder he would show me today. He always had something that astonished me and brought this difficult to describe feeling. A feeling when he took out some old electric motors or something. Today it was different. I didn’t immediately head to his “wonderland”, in expectation of presents from the whole family.
I don’t really remember what else I got that day. But one thing I remember quite clearly. Even the proudness I felt. Today I was 5 years old. It felt like a big milestone to me. Today I laugh. How silly I was back then. When it was my mother’s turn to give me presents, I saw in her hand a little ball, shaped like a soccer ball. But not quite a soccer ball, because it was green and black. But to me, it meant a world. My bouncy ball. I was so happy with it I couldn’t take my eyes from it. I began bouncing it around for a whole day.
I was happy.