Echoes of the Past: A Journey Through Healing Emotional Scars

I was no taller than the legs of the dining table, staring up at a world so impossibly large. I was 4 years old. It was just my mom and me in a 2-bedroom apartment. There was a basketball court across the street. Even at an early age, I never cared for sports. What I did enjoy the most around that time was drawing and cartoons, especially Disney movies.

My inspiration for drawing came from my mama. I stumbled upon a spiral book she had—more like I was snooping around. I asked her, “What’s this book?” as I walked towards her. Although I don’t remember what was said, I do remember being awestruck. In it were beautiful illustrations of clothing she created. She had dreamed of becoming a fashion designer, and that book was like a glimpse into the world she aspired to create. It was fascinating to realize that my mother possessed such talent—I could hardly contain my excitement. Her sketches were vibrant and alive, revealing a creativity that was both enchanting and inspiring. Knowing my mom had this gift, I begged her to draw my favorite Disney movie at the time on my bedroom wall: The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

Not only was this my favorite Disney movie during my early childhood, but I believe it was also the first Disney movie I ever saw. Even at a young age, I truly resonated with one character very much: Eeyore. Although I do have a slightly similar feeling for Piglet, Roo, Owl, Rabbit, Kanga, Gopher, and Christopher Robin—yes, even Pooh—Eeyore, with his melancholic charm, felt relatable in so many ways; he always seemed like he could use a friend, and perhaps somewhere deep down, I felt that same longing for friendship and understanding. The narrator for this movie had a wonderfully soothing voice that brought the story to life. It made me feel like I was part of these adventures, sharing in the joys and trials of this charming woodland community. These beautiful illustrations, which my mother so lovingly drew on my wall, became my first friends—the companions of my imagination when I played in my room.

This is my first memory; also, my favorite memory. Mama poured her love and creativity into the drawing for days, delicately adding colors that brought it to life. I watched, fascinated, as she transformed the blank wall into a vibrant storybook scene, feeling a thrill of anticipation swelling in my little heart. That night, when she finally showed me her finished masterpiece, it felt as though she’d captured my world in her art. I couldn’t have been happier—the moment was magical, and her effort made me feel so loved.

Acosta, T., & Melton, J. (Eds.). (2025). The many adventures of winnie the pooh. Retrieved from https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0076363/mediaviewer/rm3233783296/?ref_=tt_ph_1_4