I was just browsing through some old eighties films—yes, even the cheeky ones—when a name suddenly flashed across my mind: Sheena. It’s funny how a single flicker of memory can transport you across decades, straight into the heart of your childhood. I found myself right back where I used to be at nine years old, sprawled in front of the television, eyes wide with wonder. Was that a female version of Tarzan, riding a zebra? Of course, it wasn’t a zebra, as I grew to find out. It was a horse painted with stripes. Poor thing, I think now, but back then – a whole different sense of wonder.

It was around that time I saw Anne of Green Gables for the first time—a story that nestled itself quietly but firmly into my imagination.

Those moments, those films, stayed with me. They’re not just entertainment; they are time capsules, gentle reminders of who I once was, and perhaps still am. Some people say memories make you look back in regret. I wouldn’t know—because without mine, I wouldn’t know who I am.

They shaped me. Moulded the values I still carry.

As a child, I believed in good things. Honour. Love. Trust. The quiet power of being a good human being. And sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I had never grown up. There was a kind of clarity in those days—a sense of wonder that made even the most ludicrous films feel profound. Looking back, I realise that even the silliest movies taught me something. They helped me connect with myself, define my likes and dislikes, and understand what moved me.

Growing up didn’t take that away. If anything, it deepened the meaning. But I often look over my shoulder at the younger me with a quiet smile—grateful for the dreams, the stories, and the belief that goodness mattered.

Because it still does.