I often wonder how my children will remember their childhood. What will be prevalent in their core memories? My hope is that they will always remember our family’s simple happiness and the beautiful moments that we shared. My hope is that in a couple of decades they can look back fondly on the years spent in their own nest. And my hope is that you enjoy this beautiful reminiscence of childhood as told by the first guest writer of Simplicity Sprouts. Enjoy. -Irina

I’ve decided to write the following things down because they are the earliest warm moments I can remember, and I don’t want to forget them. They are far away in the past, cozy, peaceful, and safe.

Before the big waves and adventures, there was a unique two-story apartment with steep stairs. We lived there. Our new little family: my father – a young architect, my mother – an even younger engineering student, and me.

There was the balcony with low rails overlooking the beautiful and friendly fountains of Kiev’s main square designed by my father. There was a red kitchen table with three black butterflies that my parents painted to represent the three of us. Our cat Leeza who peed in our shoes. And my crib, which my parents painted white where Leeza once pooped.

There were Saturday nights when we would watch television in the dark on the big futon. And baths; my father splashing me with water, and my mother drying me off and wrapping a towel around my head so it looked like I had long hair.

There was warm milk my mom would make me drink before bed. My dad would drink a glass with me for the sake of company. He would make a face after each sip as if the milk was disgusting. I loved it, and the three of us laughed in the dim lights of our kitchen.

There were my mother’s sandals with high heels that I loved wearing around the apartment. My favorite pair was the ones with wooden soles. The fireworks we watched from our balcony that lit up the city skyline on summer nights. And the ice-cream that was sold across the street only during warm months, especially the chocolate-covered vanilla kind.

There was my first beer; one evening, we had dinner in my room on the second floor instead of having it in the kitchen. We ate our food at my little square table with our plates squeezed in together. As I was having the best fun I’ve ever had in that little room, my dad let me try a tiny sip of his beer. At that point, I was convinced I was the coolest kid on the entire planet. It was my one and only unforgettable beer experience.

There was my mom – the liveliest human being on the planet, whose radiant air and affectionate soul won over everyone (and still do to this day). And my dad – strong, talented, and serious, but also incredibly charming, playful, and kind. My parents.

Before the complexities of passing time began to take over with new turns and beginnings, there was the nest. My nest of simple happy memories. And two people, with their joyfully laughing eyes and their warm hearts, making me.