The first feeling I can remember is wind rushing through my hair. I was five, riding a bicycle on my way to the park to meet my older cousins and friends so we could play baseball. At least that is what I think I was doing; it is the first thing that comes to mind whenever someone asks me what my earliest memory is. However the most vivid thing about that memory is the wind and the fact that I was wearing a light blue shirt, the brain is weird that way. Though whenever I think about that light blue shirt my whole childhood comes to mind, and going down memory lane is a wonderful journey; I like to think I had a fantastic childhood, shaping me to be the individual that I am today. My earlier years took place in Mexico, in a quiet little town where everyone knew everybody. There was actually just one main street, and along that street was everything a little town might need to become a community. There were scarcely any cars in that street, everyone either walked or took their bicycle to go to their destination. At that time I lived with my maternal grandparents because both of my parents had come to the U.S. when I was two, as a result my older sister, my younger brother and I stayed with our grandparents. I am sure most people would disagree and say that a child needs his/her parents in order to be happy and feel cared for, and to some extent they are right, but that did not apply to us. I am fairly positive our parents would not have let my siblings and I do what our grandparents did, and the thing that helped the most with our upbringing was that we grew up with our grandparent’s two youngest kids, who were close to our age. therefore our grandparents had no problem raising us, there is also the fact that all the kids from our section of the road often came over to our house; my grandparents house had this large yard to the side of the house, and all of the kids came over nearly every day and we would play baseball, or marbles, or this game...
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