Story Weekend: Your Earliest Memory
I can’t really pinpoint my own earliest memory, so I’m always fascinated when someone tells me theirs. I’d love to hear yours.
If you’re new to Story Weekend, here’s how it works: I pick a theme and you share something from your life that relates to that theme, however you interpret it. Thanks to all of you who’ve been contributing. As always, there are a few “rules”:
▪ The story must be true
▪ Try to keep it under 100 words. Embrace the challenge! That’s about six or seven lines in the comment form. I want others to read your story, and most people tend to skip if it’s too long. I know how tough it is to “write tight” but I hope you’ll accept this as a challenge. Happy writing!
Shadows, probably treee branches, on the wall and ceiling over my bed or crib. I try not to thin think about it too often for fear of embellishing it.
Most of the time with early memories, I can’t tell if I’m embellishing what I’ve seen in a photograph or if it is genuine. The earliest I can seem to clearly remember is when I’m about six – not being able to sleep Millennium night because there were so many fireworks, yet my younger sister managed to sleep through it.
I wish I could remember more!
I was 2 years old and remember the night my sister was born. I remember seeing my Dad walk out the door and wondering where he was going. My other sister and I were being watched by a neighbor friend and I was not happy about that at all!
I had to be under 1 years old because I remember my mother washing me in a basin of water that was on top of the table…WOW! I just LOVED remembering that!
I was 2 years, 10 and a half months old. My parents brought my sister home from the hospital. They had a light green Ford station wagon. My Mom was wearing a long black coat, and carried my sister in a handmade baby blanket. Our neighbor stayed with me, and I felt so important as she let me help do the dishes. I had to stand on a stool to reach the sink, but I remember feeling so grown up 🙂
I was about 2 and half, my younger sister had not been born yet. My mom was pregnant and it was my last trip to the Washington, D.C. zoo as an only child. I can remember the treacherous walking, even back then with my dad, mom and grandmother (we called her Nanny). My mom took all sorts of pictures of me sitting on the statues that they have in front of all the animal houses. I especially liked the huge turtles, the goats on the mountain, and the monkeys. But, one thing that really stood out in my mind was how tall I thought Nanny was. The memory of her height stuck with me all the way through the years. When I was in high school, I had grown taller than her. I told her all about my memory and we both laughed about it since she really wasn’t all that tall, but to a 2 year old she seemed like a giant. .
My earliest memory is when I was two years old. We were living in Shoreham Beach Maryland. My brother and I were outside playing with neighbor kids just after the lawn had been mowed. A “big” girl, she was probably 7 or 8 years old, put grass down my back.
Pat, I’m glad you moved to our more civilized neighborhood!
I do believe my earliest memory is my brother being born. I was only 2 at the time, so it is extremely hazy to me…almost as if it was a dream. Who knows…maybe it IS a dream. I was at my grandparents’ house, standing next to the bathroom door, when somebody said, “You’re a sister now.”
I was 2, my dad was an older dad by todays standards and he left the rearing of the children to my mom. He was a man who put food on the table and left his responsibilities at the door. Yet sometime during those days of longing, my brother and I took to to taunting him with the refrain of Big Bad Bear Bear as soon as his shadow passed our door and he chased us through our threadbare flat until we took refuse, panting&giggling under mom’s bed. He would drag us out by our feet, one by one and he hugged us to his well worn wool bus drivers uniform and we were made whole.A Veteran of WWII. He had seen too much, too young. There is a whole lot of history to be found in a hug. Never underestimate the power, the healing to be found in a touch. I carry it with me always. I hug Everyone I meet whether they want a hug or not. This for me is non negotiable:}
I was about 3 years old looking out of my second story bedroom window on a beautiful summer afternoon. I remember wishing I wasn’t supposed to be napping, wanting to be out playing.
It seems all but one above were significantly younger when they retained a memory. Mine began to swirl at age five and only contain smells (pungency of a Korean street market,) and our front stoop, just the shape (standard grey concrete step.) (Parents tell me I sat on that stoop and told passers-by my age.)