I have pretty vivid memories of my childhood. Not all of them, but a few that really touched me are there. The most vivid one should be when my father left us. Me, staring outside the window on the second floor, while a truck with his stuff leaves. Then I remember how I found a chestnut and buried it in my garden. Four years later I remembered it and went to see what has happened. To my surprise it set roots! But most of all I remember the yelling of y mother, when she was mad at me for making a total mess of my room. This habit has changed since then.