Memoirs of a forgotten childhood

I remember watching two raindrops race against each other as they glided down my windowpane.
I remember counting the number of days till my next birthday the day after my birthday.
I remember forgetting my times tables, my directions and my shoes.
I remember the day I saved my first penalty.
I remember the day I scored my first penalty.
I remember the days I lost matches more than I remember the days I won them.
I remember catching feathers with my bare hands on cold days.
I remember meeting and leaving my first friend.
I remember shutting my eyes as the roller coaster embarked on its journey.
I remember sleeping on the bus ride home.
I remember the street lit football matches more than I remember the sunlit ones.
I remember waiting at the door to jump out and scare a friend.
I remember the fights, the fun and the innocent faces made in my school.
I remember the forgotten homework, and the bizarre excuses made.
I remember stealing mangoes from an old lady’s tree.
I remember paying for stealing mangoes from an old lady’s tree.
I remember climbing fences to play in the open fields.
I remember running from dogs with football in hand and friend at heel.
I remember the mud in our eyes and the smiles on our faces, the dirt on our shoes and our untied laces.
I remember sitting on luxury seats we didn’t pay for at the movies.
I remember to forget the school bell’s toll.
I remember.