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secrets of your life

August 29, 2006

Way back before you have a clear memory of daily events there were people in your life that can recall specific moments and recollect them to you. How you liked to sleep when you were a baby, how the developmental milestones evolved over time, how the color of your hair changed as you grew from a baby to toddler to kid or the silly things you did or said that makes up your childhood.

Some people have fantastic memories and can remember bits and pieces of their childhood and other events while others must rely on those keepers of the secrets that began your life. I am a person who can remember very far back into my babyhood and can recall specific events that occured long before actual memory is documented to begin. For example I remember being about 2 and receiving a parakeet for my birthday. I have a strong recollection of sitting in our eat in kitchen near the sliding glass doors and my mother was walking around the kitchen while hassling me over the name choice of my bird. I wanted to name my new blue buddy Big Bird after my current idol on Sesame Street. My parents argued with me that he was a little bird and I should choose a different and more appropriate name. I don’t remember what my mother said or what I said specifically but I remember staring at the place-mat on the table and thinking that I really wanted to name him big bird and what was the big deal? I have been told that I named him Harold after I finally gave in and gave up my first choice and plainly stated “Fine. Harold then”. The family joke was that no one knew where Harold had come from. We knew no Harolds and I was only 2. Regardless of the other details I truly can picture the kitchen and sitting there feeling very confused and mad at my parents. The other facts as I know them I will coincide that I have learned over the years from my family telling this story because they thought it was cute. Both of my psych professors deny that I actually remember it and the memory is a product of a story I have heard repeated. I don’t believe it. I remember two other incidents of living with both my parents before they split up when I was four. One is throwing up into a royal blue double basin mop bucket and my mom put it outside the bathroom to dump and my dad being pretty much blind (seriously –he has no peripheral vision and has terrible eyesight period) stepped in it and cursing a blue streak while my mom tried not to laugh. He was as angry with my mom for laughing as he was that I had vomited and then stepped in it it appeared. I thought it was comical too and ridiculous and started to laugh but he gave me the evil eye and I stopped and just sat on my bed hoping I would not need the bucket too soon. The last memory takes place on xmas eve just before I turned 2 in March. I was asleep in my bed and awoke (it seemed in my dream) in the arms of the Abominal Snowman  who was cackling in an unpleasant and menacing way and then promptly dropped me and I had my first “feeling like I was falling dream”. I awoke for real and heading down our long wooden stairs holding on to the metal railing and just as I was at the point on the stairs where my parents noticed me they both shouted loudly…”DON”T COME DOWN HERE…..GO BACK TO BED”. They were doing all those normal kinds of assembly of presents that many parents have found make up a large portion of their xmas eve evening. Needless to say it scared the crap out of me.

There are lots of others stories; some funny and some scary or sad. The one my mom told over and over and over to anyone if she was reminded was the birthday that I received my first sand box. I unwrapped present after present and each was a new accoutrement of sand box joy. Items like pails, shovels, sifters and the like proceeded one after another. After each present my mom would say to me, “Look  Nicci, a pail for your sand box!”. After all the presents were opened inside I asked my mom, “What is a fan box?” They had wanted to save the best  for last and just assumed at 3 that I knew what one was. Well I did not. After becoming acquainted with my new box of sand I came running into the party and exclaimed to my mom, “Mom, mom, there is a fooky fider in my fan box!!!” ha.

So, after this long winded cuteness of self parade I find that I am at a loss for people to remeber things about me. I am relagated to those memories of my mine and those that are passed down through the oral family culture. Everyone that would remember cute stuff about me is either dead or was never around.

I am really missing my mom tonight as I pack my sons backpack for his first day of kindergarten and gather his supplies and plan his lunch. My sons BFF will attend school with him and will gratefully be in the same class and that fact gives me some peace knowing he will have his best bud in the whole world by his side. I desperately would give anything (almost) to be able to call my mom and tell her all of the exciting and wonderful things I am imagining for him. I feel as though there is some torch to be passed along but I am running and running and running and am at my destination finally and have turned back to find my team is gone and I must proceed without them somehow with no baton to pass and no one ahead to pick up the slack.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. August 29, 2006 3:01 am

    Rock on, soon-to-be kindergartner!!

  2. Heidi permalink
    August 29, 2006 2:38 pm

    Secrets of my life. There are too many to even tell, but you inspired me to attempt it. Most of them I think I’ve blocked out and unfortunately I don’t have anyone that I still know who really knows anything about me until I was around 10 or 11. And most of that I can remember myself.

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