Beijing Nostalgia

I’m reminded of a loose collection of memories from the Beijing of my youth where I spent a few humid, blisteringly hot, summers. I recall buying an arts and crafts magazine in the park. Holding onto it while on the back of my grandfather’s bicycle while he’s taking me home. Cutting out the shapes and the delight of making a frog. The raining mushroom at the waterpark that has since been torn down. The swimming pool where I shivered in the mornings undertaking the coach’s drills. Returning at 14 and finding romance at every turn of the dusk and evening, wishing that teen dream of finding someone to share the feeling with. How I’d always said someday I’d write about the memories, but felt fear grip me as most of the memories already slipped away.