First Memory

My first memory is in the Old House, and I have a persisting feeling that perhaps it’s not real.

That’s how I think of it — the Old House. My family has only lived in two houses in my remembrance. The Old House was a one-floor building with a kitchen, living room, and bedrooms.

I must have been younger than five because my brother was still in a crib. I remember walking into my brother’s room and looking at a toy sheep hanging over the crib’s guardrail. The memory is soundless like some dreams I have.

I have a habit of filling in the history of a photograph. I imagine what happened before and after the photo was taken. Did I see a photo and built a memory around it? I can’t remember. I will never know unless I see an old photo of a toy sheep hanging over the banister of my brother’s crib.

What is your first memory?

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  1. Very thoughtful and very emotional, as one would expect a post on this topic to be.

    I think my first memory is from a time when I was around four or five years old. I was in my chair eating Rice Krispies while my brothers laid down on the living room floor, watching TV. The most immediate memory after that is when my parents drove by what would become my kindergarten.

    • Thanks for the comment.

      I’ve wonder why my first memory is so unextraordinary. Why do I remember it and not something else? I guess I’ll never know.

  2. i’ve really never thought of filling in the history of a photograph. i should do that more often. sounds like something extremely entertaining (not to mention insightful) to do.

    i remember few things before my primary school days and the ones i do are in a jumble so i can’t tell which came first. i remember colouring a bananas in pajamas colouring book at a church member’s place early in the morning when my parents just dropped me off there to be babysat while they visited china.

  3. STX

     /  April 4, 2012

    Similar to yours Bundy! We lived in one house til I was 3ish then we moved across the road. I remember a few things about that old house, trick or treaters coming to the door, runnin to my neighbors to play on their big bouncing ball that you sit on a it has a handle, but my favorite memory is my Dad telling me that we had to move because he was too tall for the ceilings! He’s 6’3″ and that place was small. The house I spent most of my life in has a cathedral ceiling in the living room, dining room, area . And my Dad is a big kidder. Love that. Thanks for making me think back. Didn’t want to do it first thing in the morning but that’s my fault for checking Facebook while making coffee. ☺

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