Menu

Write about your earliest memory

Topic #182:

Write about your earliest memory, or the strongest early memory that comes to mind.

 

Show Comments

33 Comments

Comments are closed.

Close Comments

Comments

  1. Earliest memory…….I was 11. Just got back from living in Sudan as a family. The worst thing in the whole world (for me) happened, my mother announced she was leaving my Dad. I could not understand this as they seemed fine. The bottom fell out of my world and I wanted to be sick. I remember the room, the table, the time of day (ish). This was the beginning of my self destructive behavior and over indulgence in alcohol. I lost my Dad and that hurt. To much to deal with. Screwed up school and a whole host of things. Fortunately I am able to say that 29 years on I am just beginning to mend and now booze free. I have made an amazing 2 year recovery and completely turned my life inside out and back to front. I have mended everything and have not finished YET……..

    Like

  2. Being frightened. I must have been four and my Dad always frightened me. He shouted a lot and swore, he called people names and I would hide behind the coach. Sometimes I would wet myself.

    Like

  3. My first memory was having my head squeezed to oblivion while I was being crushed in a very small tube that was hot and wet. I was so traumatized when I finally got out of it that I started screaming greeted by bright lights. I hope I never have to do that again.

    Like

  4. My strongest early memory is of my mother being pregnant with my sister. The pregnancy was not going well and my mother was put on 24/7 bed rest the last few weeks. When my sister was born I remember going to visit her at the hospital in our small town. Back in the 1960, we were not allowed to go into the nursery or even into our mom’s room to see the baby, so my dad held her up to the window of my mom’s room and my brother and I waived at her from outside. We were 6 and 4 at the time. She looked very small to me through that window.

    Like

  5. Sometime every one including me, make mistake.infact I must accept the bad happen to me.every day can’t do anything with Him(God) feels that what I’m doing is empty. God please forgive what I’m done before. Please stay close with me to making any activity

    Like

  6. Oh wow… For the longest time, I used to remember being very little and going to this one trailer. I remember being there in spring. I remember being there during winter. I also remember that my mother was *never* there. I just remember always wanting her and missing her when I was at this place. For years I would talk about this to family members and they all just said the same thing. “You dreamt it.” No one recalled anything about a trailer whatsoever.

    Well, around 2002, my half-sister moves local so it was interesting to hear about our family history before I was born or when I was itty bitty. Suddenly she started talking about how she hated it when my father would take us to my grandfather’s place. “And the breakfasts he made were terrible! Poached eggs and burnt toast! He lived in this trailer…”

    And it hit me like a ton of bricks. It all came rushing back to me about how I remembered all those little moments. FINALLY something to prove that I didn’t dream this stuff. And the lovely tidbit, when I asked my mother: “You were never there, were you?” She said that my father’s parents blatantly did not like her so when my father went to visit his parents, she would just go to her mother’s.

    Like

  7. My earliest memory consists of riding in my mom’s early 90’s Toyota Corola in the summertime with the windows down, as she blared R-Kelly, Jodeci and Baby Face in the tape player. As I rode in the car with my mom, music blaring, I remember thinking it can’t get any better than this. Life is good.

    Like

  8. I remember being two y.o. and I burned my hand on the stove and I could not stop watching The Aristocats. I’ve watched it over 40 times… or so my mother says.

    Like

  9. I remember sitting around a campfire telling folk tales of natures creations under the moonlight, the smell of the wild river seeking its oceanic fate, I remember that scent of pure freedom, now it’s just a damn memory.

    Like

  10. I don’t even wanna think about it because I don’t want to remember the pain anymore as it is part of life and we all have to move on and that is what I am doing right now…

    Like

  11. Quando se chega na minha idade, só podemos lamentar a juventude que já se foi que tem o nome de Sefóia, significando o que falei!
    Quero lembrar que essa foi a última vez que escrevo já parei com tudo, não estou bem de saúde, e sem animo de continuar escrevendo.
    Deixo o meu abraço a todos e agradecimentos!
    Mina!

    Like

  12. I would have been almost two and a half. I remember sitting outside near our dirt driveway waiting for my mother to get home. I felt like she had been gone a long, long time, but it must have been only a few days – and I missed her a lot. When she arrived I was more than happy but when I followed her back into the house, she unwrapped the new baby and I think, even then, I realized life would never be the same.

    Like

  13. I was around two yrs of age it was early spring I had just taken out my doll carriage for the 1st time I had gotten for xmas my mom made me share it with another small child and this other child broke the wheels off of it so I wasnt a happy camper

    Like

    1. I can remember having my older sister take a doll from me that I’d received from an elderly friend of my mom’s. It was the first beautiful doll I’d ever had, if only for a short while. Growing up with 7 other siblings and no dad, toys were a luxury. My mom tried to replace the doll with another for Christmas that year. But Roberta was not the beauty that Christine was. Funny enough, I came to love Roberta more because I felt she was more like me…not the beauty in the family.

      i guess all children are not happy campers…sometime in their young lives…hugmamma. 😉

      Like

  14. I was a little child, may be three and a half or four year old when my Grandma expired. She used to live in Varanasi. According to Hindu mythology and belief, whosoever breaths his or her last in Varanasi, one of the earthly abodes of Lord Shiva, gets freedom from the birth-death cycle.
    Following her death, our family got engaged in performing the religious rituals which were a must-to-abide-by. The function which began – as sanctioned by the scriptures — after ten days of her demise was a huge affair. Elaborate preparations for a grand feast were made quite ahead of the stipulated day. The entire village, accommodating maybe a few hundreds of people – were invited.
    A day before the ceremony, several large earthen ovens were put up to hold huge cauldrons for cooking delicious food. Formidably big bagfuls of vegetables, rice, wheat flour, fruits and large quantity of cooking oil and spices were ported in to our home situated on the top of a small hillock. I still remember the scene of half naked, perspiring porters wiping their sweating bodies with multi colored small cotton towels.
    There was a very big pond owned by our family at the base of the hillock. It was deep and full of clear, bluish water. Uncountable fishes of various size and volume were the inhabitants of the pond.
    The striking, half a century old scene which I vividly remember even today: several wooden planks were joined together to serve the purpose of a fishing boat. Three or four persons wearing short loin cloth were on the floating object with a huge fishing net in their hands. The net was thrown in to the water and after a while the men began pulling it up. And what a spectacle it was for me, a child in the arms of his father – fishes, big and small, caught in the net were vigorously struggling for freedom. They were jumping, rolling and doing what not to escape. To my great joy and amusement, a few of them, some big and some small, succeeded. I was quite excited and wanted to touch those which were brought over to the ground. They were very much alive. I wanted to be near them and play with them. I also sort of struggled to get out of my father’s arms. But he didn’t let me and held me closer to his bossom.

    Like

  15. At 11 (Eleven) months young. I remember having a conversation with my mother about that beautiful afternoon in April of 1973. I explained to her many details about that day without realizing what was going thru her mind.
    My family and I were moving to a new home in Kingsville, Texas. My father was driving a green pickup truck which was filled with lots of our furniture. I can still see myself being brought down from the pickup truck and given dishware to bring inside the home as I wanted to impress my family. I walked in the home and saw to my left and to my right. The kitchen was to the right so I headed that way as I did many times after that. Especially when my mother was cooking. My memory is to vivid about my life. Thank God for the ability to have those memories.
    After talking about this date and soon realized my mothers blank stare at me, I asked her, “mom what is wrong?” she said, “there is no way you could remember that day. You were only 11 months old then.” Little to my surprise I was soon the one in shock. I thought how could that be possible. Then I started bring up other stories she she verified that the information i was giving her was all accurate and the timeline was very exact.

    Like