Blogging (or trying to) everyday* in May with Claire, check out the daily prompts here.
Day 4: Your earliest memory.
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My boy and my most beloved toy from when I was younger
For whatever reason, I do not have many memories of when I was young. There are some things I know of due to the telling and retelling of stories throughout the years. They have been given memory-like qualities thanks to how often I’ve heard them, much like what happens when you read a book and give the story you’re immersing yourself in life.
There are a couple of things I do remember from living in our lovely big family home before we moved away from Nowra. I have no idea which is the earliest, as they’re all smushed together in my brain.
I remember my brother, Josh, jumping on the bed which was sitting on the verandah at the time and splitting his head open, I cried more than he did and was utterly sick with worry, all tears and hiccupy, when I was dropped at my Aunt’s while mum and dad took him to hospital.
At 6 or 7 I thought it would be awesome to have my beautiful, long hair cut from at my butt to under my ears. I remember hating it as soon as it was done (and my hair has never been the same again).
I can still see the big bus which was parked down the side of our house, it was big and kind of ugly but also all sorts of cool. My dad had all his musical instruments in there and would teach drums and guitar to students young and old of an afternoon and evening.
There was the time Josh had to be rushed to hospital (again), having swallowed a magnet and me thinking he would actually, surely die.
And I remember diligently saving up for a Magic Nursery Baby. I desperately wanted to put the little soluble pouch which told you if your baby was a boy or girl in my bowl of water and discover I had twins, so when I went to buy my baby I took forever to choose which one I would take home. I scrutinized each and every doll on display and chose a babe with lovely lavender eyes. That night, I was at my Nan’s and in my jammies (what patience!) when I found out I HAD chosen a doll which had a twin. Funnily enough, the twin – a girl with the same lovely lavender eyes – which arrived some weeks later was just never quite as special as my Jamie.
I wish I could recall more, sometimes if somebody is talking about something that happened, a memory can be triggered but for the most part it’s a little bit like I wasn’t a child at all. Thank goodness for photos and videos! As much as I cringe, I also really appreciate them and the story they tell about a time I can’t remember.
What about you, what’s your memory like? What is your earliest memory?
Image may be NSFW.
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* Except for those days I didn’t. Already. I hope you’ll forgive me on account of a tummy bug…
