Day 14 – Your Earliest Memory
Confession: I have a horrible memory.
Seriously, I’m not making this up. I can’t count how many times my mother begins something with “Do you remember when…” and at the end of her recollection I have no idea what she’s talking about. It’s literally almost every single time. Why is that?
Well, I have theories (how could I not). One, there is a mental block in my mind for whatever reason that keeps me from remembering. Two, I could have some form of disorder. Three, the back of my mind chooses not to remember, and the front of my mind simply has no reason why I don’t remember stuff. Four I shall leave open to the jury, mainly because I don’t like odd numbers. Either way, I’m sure there’s a fourth possibility in there somewhere.
So memories. I have some. I suppose deductive reasoning will help solve my earliest one, but I’m not in the thought process today to really look far enough back to pull something out. I’m going to share one for now, and possibly in the future will be able to give a better answer to this question.
I remember living in an apartment around age six. There was a man who lived down the hall who looked like he belonged in the south because of his incredibly tan complexion at all times. (As a kid I always thought people who were always tan were from the south. I have no idea why that is.) He would stand out in his garage and smoke cigarettes, his sun-wrinkled face looking about. The memory coming to mind is when I was playing in the sprinklers with a friend one summer day and the tornado sirens started to go off. My mom called us to go inside, and I recall seeing this man still standing in his garage, unphased by the warning call. He never left the garage throughout the entire thing. For some reason is impressed me and has always stuck with me.
What is your earliest memory?