For me, it's hard to know how well I remember things from my childhood. I think it's because we lived in the same house my entire life and so I don't have a change in scenery to help provide a timetable. I'm not complaining about that. I'm grateful that I grew up where I did because it led to having amazing and lifelong friends who all lived in the same neighborhood as me. But still, the downside is not remembering things as well, and maybe out of order.
I've been thinking about how my girls, specifically Kameryn, are getting old enough to remember things. Which has led me to think about my earliest memories.
Strangely, when I think about my mom, I always remember her hands. Situations where I was watching her hands - helping me, dressing me, comforting me.
I'll be content even if my girls only have simple memories like mine. I remember her hands so well, but even in that limited memory, I remember feeling how much she loved me.
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"Is that the correct answer to the multiple choice of me?" -Michael Clayton
5 comments:
I was just thinking about this the other day, that everything I do everyday right now - Wyatt won't remember a thing.
I only have a few memories when we lived in the apartment before moving to Mill Street, and they're such strange, random ones. Like the first time I saw my mom's hair in a ponytail. I thought it looked so funny. Another is of falling down outside while playing, and coming home crying and only my dad was home. I remember thinking, well, I guess dad will work...
This is sweet.
I have similar hopes for my daughter. Today I asked Brian, "Does she know I'm her mom?"
He said yes.
But I don't know if she does.
Thank you, Kjersti. It is so sweet that you remember me this way. I have the same problem when I try to remember early things in my childhood. I always lived in the same place, so I don't have a timetable that helps me much. I think my earliest memory is stepping on a piece of glass when I went down a slippery slide. My mom came and helped me into the motel room where we were staying (it happened when we were out of town), washed and bandaged my foot and put me to bed. I went to sleep and later, when I woke up, my sister brought me some fresh raspberries to eat. My mom did not remember this happening at all, but I am sure it was not a dream.
When I try and think back to my earliest memory sometimes I wonder if they are real memories or if they are just thoughts I made up on my own from someone telling me a story of when I was younger, or if it is a story I embellished from looking at a photo. I know for sure that the memories I had of my mom always doing something for us kids; whether it was making dinner, working on a craft, watching us ride our bikes on the driveway or making play-doh sculptures, (I love that my mom is in so many of those memories) I know I'm not making it up. I also hope that I can be as wonderful a mother as she is.
I have my sisters to remind me of my childhood moments. lol The stories of how much I annoyed them or how I did something cute come back every now and then. Calling corn hogachew, waking up Allison in the middle of the night for cereal, and probably many more I can't think of right now.
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