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