What is the earliest memory you have?
Welcome to Bloganuary Day 3! Today’s question has me thinking of two distinct childhood memories:
- Writing a song with my musician father.
- Losing my favorite toy at the beach and screaming my head off until a little boy who was bodyboarding not too far away, found it in the water, heard me crying, and brought it back.
I’m not sure which one came first. I was around three years old, maybe a little younger, when my dad and I wrote our song. I say three because my brother, who is sixteen months younger than me, was not yet old enough to be talking, but he was old enough to be running around banging his tambourine and driving my dad nuts.
(We recorded our song on cassette, and in one of the takes, you can hear the jangling of the cymbals on the tambourine, my brother screaming, “Wooooo!” and my dad shouting, “Sit down! Sit down somewhere!” It’s pure comedy!)
Number 2 happened sometime after the release of The Lion King in 1994, as I had named my toy Nala, after my favorite character in the film, despite the toy being a polar bear. That puts me at around two or three years old then too.
All of this just confirms for me that it’s true that we can recall memories from as early as two years old. Can you remember what happened to you when you were just a toddler?
Last year, in my short-lived participation in Bloganuary, I wrote a 100-word story inspired by my precious little Nala, who still lives with me all these years later. The real story, thankfully, has a happier ending, but I hope you enjoy this Tuesday throwback…
At dusk, the Legend sets sail for Bermuda. On my stateroom balcony, I watch below as the ship cuts through waves, the small crests forming shapes reminiscent of the six-inch stuffed polar bear I carried everywhere as a child—until one day at the beach, a rip current snatched her out of my hands.
I cried myself violet that day, as I do now, on what was originally our anniversary cruise—until that secretary and her ripped pantyhose snatched you out of my hands.
I see her little paw reach up in the white foam and dream of a reunion.
© 2022-2023 Nortina Simmons