My strongest early memory would have to
be when I was seven and my mum gave me THE best birthday present ever.
A baby sister.
I can still clearly remember sitting on the
swings out in the front garden, my mind a whirl of disbelief with the
fact that I actually had a brand new baby sister. On my birthday, as
requested.
As wonderful memory as it is I am a bit
disappointed that I can not remember much before this point. There
are a whole seven years of my life that there is just no recollection
of. Well there are few little bits and pieces that I can recall, but
most of them only stretch back six months from this memory.
My dad said he could clearly remember
going for horse and cart ride with his grandparents. As they passed
away before he was four he worked out that he was three or under at
the time. I would love to be able to say I could remember something
from that age but there is just nothing. At all.
Other than the birth of my sister the
only other early memories I have are of when I went to England when I
was six and half. I was travelling with a friend of my mum's and her
family. There was a boy, a few years older than myself, in tears
because he had to say good bye to his dad who couldn't make the trip.
I found myself thinking how much braver than him I was because I was
saying goodbye to my entire family and not shedding a tear.
I also remember on that trip a great
Aunt passing away. Having recently said goodbye to my grandfather a
few months prior I felt I was an expert in death and grieving and as
such tried to pass on my wisdom. Needless to say it was not really
well received.
Being the big believer in silver
linings that I am I wonder if the silver lining to little memories is
what stems my desire to write. I can remember being about fourteen
and regularly writing in a journal because it was the only way I
could think of saving my memories for later years. Assured that such memories would be the secret to the book I longed to publish.
Joining in with Clairey and day four of her #CHbloginmay challenge
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