30 Day Challenge: Day 14

So, today is going to be a bit of a challenging post because I’m really not sure what my earliest memory is.  I think that so many of us are told stories about when we are young that I don’t know what I actually remember and what I think I might remember from being told stories.  So, I’m going to give you a taste of some of my earliest memories (all before the age of 7 as I moved for the first time when I was 7).

There was this one time, when the bunk beds that were in one of our rooms collapsed.  And by collapsed, apparently I mean that just the mattress went in.  But at somewhere between the ages of 5-7 (probably), all I recall is being stuck and my siblings using the mattress that was trapping me as a slide.  Not the most pleasant memory.

I remember the day my youngest brother was born.  But not really.  I remember that instead of going home after school, we went to a family friend’s house and we were told it was because my brother was going to be born.  I don’t really actually recall – nor was I present for – his actual birth.

I remember that around the time we were moving, I was going away to my aunts house in Norwich.  I was really sad (at least I think I was) and I tended to be pretty quiet as a child – I still can be.  Well, I remember my aunt being worried one night and checking to see if I had a pulse and she told me I didn’t.  Kind of morbid and awful now that I think about it.

I remember hanging out with my best friend at the time (who, naturally, lived next door because best friends at that time are defined by ease of getting to them and what’s easier than walking next door).  After three or four nights and days of being completely together, we got in a big fight and I stormed out of her house.  I don’t remember what the fight was about, I just remember it happening.

One more…just so you can get an idea of what goes through my head when I think of my childhood.

I was upstairs in my house and I was reading a Boxcar children book.  It was something that had to do with an island (and I remember this because I distinctly read it in my head as iSland – the s was not silent as I read it).  Well, turns out their was a bat downstairs in my house.  Now, my mom shut me upstairs, but I was scared to death of having to go back down there and I don’t know that I did for a long while.

So, I’m not sure which of these is my earliest memories (definitely not the one about the pulse because if I remember correctly that was as we were about to move so I was most definitely 7), but they all occurred around the age of 5-7, I believe.  I don’t really know.  I guess my memory has never been all that great.  Everything blurs together and the things that I remember don’t seem to take an infinite shape.

What is your earliest memory?  Do you have a good memory or a bad memory?  Do you think that some of our earliest memories are probably constructed from what we believe happened/stories we have been told by parents and other family members?

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