Childhood Memories

​Childhood is a whirl of confusion, bliss, clarity, and naivety. The memories we have from this time shape us into the people we become. However, our memories rarely strike us with luscious clarity or certainty. Our memories are often haunted by our adult perceptions of reality, tainted by the stories we are told and our family members’ retellings of the events.

I cannot say with certainty what my first memory is. There are blips, pieces of my life that flash around, pieces of joy, of fear, of resonating sadness.
So, below, a description of some of my early memories, since I cannot pinpoint exactly one.

• Hiding under a blanket with my mom because there was a bat in our apartment.
• Sitting at the picnic table playing a “game” with my mom—she would tell me to try to guess which beauty item on the page she had selected. I never understood why she took so long to look at the page and pick her item :)
• Reading my first book—it was a book from my Wendy’s kid’s meal about pandas.
• Walking with Chelsey and my mom to the post office every day.
• Meeting Thomas, my childhood best friend. I can still remember his mom bringing him over to introduce him.
• Skinning my knee on my bike while riding with my friend Thomas. I still have a scar.
• Loving Spaghettios.
• Watching Barney and Mister Rogers.
• Loving See Spot Run books and Henry and Mudge (who knew I’d get my own Mudge named Henry as an adult?)
• Test driving a Barbie car in the store and not understanding why my parents decided I shouldn’t have one.
• Cutting off all of my Barbies' hair to “make them look better”
• Being angry because my friend was staying over and we went to the toy store. My parents let her pick a toy. For me, though, they got me a learning to read workbook. Now, I know that was the best gift they could have got me.

 
The list goes on and on. My childhood was a magical one. I was an only child, but I was never lonely. With my parents, my pets, and my imagination, I was never alone. My mom was a creative mind, always coming up with something for us to do.

Most of all, my childhood taught me that books are magical. From an early age, they always put a book in my hand. My childhood was filled with moments, big and small, that shaped me into the person I am today.
​
Looking back, the first memory isn’t what is the most important—it’s the people in my memories. Every memory, every moment of my childhood involves my parents. And every memory, every moment that shaped me is because of their dedication, their values, and their commitment to giving me the best childhood they could.