Tonight John asked me what my earliest memory was. He’d posed the question to his grandma earlier in the day and had gotten a very interesting response.
I thought…and thought….I take my memories seriously. Plus, I think a lot of my memories are just stories my parents have told and re-told. I don’t think I actually remember drinking cream rinse “to see what it tasted like” or narrowly escaping injury when the toy refrigerator fell on me in preschool.
After some intense remembering, I think I remembered an early memory.
I’m fairly certain one of my earliest memories is looking at the vacuum cleaner in the corner of my bedroom. My parents lived in an apartment until I was 3, and I don’t think the vacuum fit anywhere else in the apartment. So, it lived in my room.
Perhaps this has led to a life-long appreciation of small appliances and cleaning. Thanks, Mom.
Is my first memory unusually dull? Share!