Golden.
When I was a young child, I used to do terrible things. I remember when my mother would make me angry, I would go into her bedroom, open her little red box of jewellery (which contained all of her rings, bracelets, necklaces and brooches made of gold and decorated with various precious stones and pearls) pick one that caught my eye and throw it out the window. I would watch it fly over the fence and let it disappear into the grass. Every time I did that, I felt shame and regret. But I was too young and angry to care.
Now, several years later, we are struggling with money. Poor and barely making enough for anything other than the necessities of surviving. I’m still surprised that she agreed to pay for my college fees, despite all of the stupid things I’ve done.
I know that I am a terrible son. But one day, I will make it up to her. I will earn money and buy her everything that she will ever need, and replace all of the golden memories in her little red box that I never should have touched in the first place.
