I’m having a very bad day, and it’s very bad for reasons I’m not at liberty to discuss. But take my word for it: I need you all to send me truffles and red wine and good vibes. Thank you.
While I was walking home from work I was listening to my iPod and every song seemed weirdly relevant to my very bad day. It was probably just a coincidence or my imagination or something. The songs included Everybody Knows, and Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, and Democracy is Coming to the USA.
Anyway. Enough of that. While I’m waiting for the truffles and red wine and good vibes to come flooding in, let’s do a round-up of our earliest memories.
Do you ever wonder why we can’t remember being babies? I sometimes suspect we store our earliest experiences somewhere in our bodies in a form that is un-recallable but not quite forgotten.
Another thing: have you ever noticed that toddlers are intrigued by repetition? They might show no interest in watching television until the commercials come on, and then they stop whatever they’re doing to focus intently on the commercials. I think it’s because they remember them, and they’re not used to remembering stuff. They’re fascinated by the absolute unwavering predictability of commercials. This fascination seems to coincide with the age at which the toddler’s ability to store and recall memories is emerging.
Anyway. Earliest memories. I’ll tell you mine, and hopefully you’ll tell me yours.
My earliest memory is from when I was two or three years old. At that time, my mother was going to school. She would drop my sister and me off at the sitter’s every Monday morning and pick us up every Friday evening.
Strangely, my earliest memory is of a dream rather than an actual experience. In this dream, my mother came to pick us up on Friday evening, and I was angry about something. I stomped my foot. My mother got angry back and said stomping my foot was bad, so I couldn’t come home for the weekend.
The next thing I remember is the babysitter and I were standing on the front porch, and my mother was leaving with my sister. She was pushing a stroller. I was supposed to be in the stroller, but the babysitter’s child was in it instead of me. My sister was holding onto the side. They were walking away, across a field.
I tried to call out to my mom, but I had no voice. I looked over at the babysitter and she had this huge crack in her neck. Her head started to wobble, and then it fell off and rolled across the porch towards me.
Then I woke up.
Okay, your turn. What’s your earliest memory?