Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Yesterday Damien's post got me thinking about my childhood memories. It's funny how they stick with you so strongly, isn't it? There's the good and the bad, the funny and embarrassing.
The other day I was reminiscing with my parents, I can't remember what the memory was that I was talking to them about but my mom looked at me and said "Katie, you were three when that happened".
I remember peeing my pants (I was younnnng!) right before my mom had company, she told me she thought I had learned "by now", set me up on the dryer and made me wait there until her guests were comfortable. I remember calling out for her...I think she had forgotten about me, you know how that happens when you get distracted. We were living in our first house at that time, so I was probably around two.
My Dad can remember when he was nine months old. He was laying in his crib when his mom and her sister walked into his room. He can remember what they were wearing and what they said. He told his mom this later on and she couldn't believe him. Apparently, the only time her sister had visited was when he was nine months old.
And of course, as summer draws closer (I'm sticking my tongue out at all you lucky bums that already have warm weather and green trees!), the memories of childhood summers start to come back. Remember when we used to run through the sprinkler at 11 at night because it was so hot we couldn't sleep. Or when we went for the family reunion on the coast and picked arrow heads off of the beach. Or when I threw that pine cone under someones car as they drove past and they backed up and reamed me out. Or when our neighbor brought gigantic cookies over. Or when we got our first puppy....
I love memories. It's crazy how specific smells or songs bring them back...that can be good or bad.
What is one of your favorite memories?
I think my favorite memory is riding with my dad on his motorbike, an old candy apple red Norton. We'd ride for hours, until I was nodding off to sleep on the back. Dad would be asking me if I was tired, and I'd say no because I never wanted to get off the bike. When we'd pass people, I'd put my hands on my lap instead of holding his waist because I knew it looked tough and cool. I'd look at the kids in the vans and be like "yeah, they think I'm awesome". But it's being with my dad and riding that bike that are the best memories.