Writer's Block: Where your memories began.

[author_by_night]

[Error: unknown template qotd] I have a few, two in particular. One of them is very morbid and depressing, so I'll go for the second, which is nice.

I walked out of my house, and I remember staring at the sky, the sun on my face. I remember looking at what I thought was the "end" of the sky in the distance, and wanting to touch it very badly.

Obviously I didn't, but I'm fairly certain that the memory is the first time I really thought to wonder about life.

Another memory is running barefoot through a field with a girl with long blond hair and a red dress. She said we were going to her grandparents house. I questioned the memory since that day, feeling it could be a dream, but my Mom says that actually happened. I think pieces are missing - not entirely sure who would let two three-five year olds run through an empty field barefoot - but it's still a nice memory.

ETA: Took out the tl;dr stuff. :)

Comments

[nundu-art.livejournal.com]

My earliest memory is of walking down a brick sidewalk set in a herringbone pattern, combined with a memory of sitting by an iron bedstead of a very old woman, followed by going to a church, whose choir loft I can describe in great detail. This memory has always been quite strong, so when I was in my mid 40s, I asked my mother where those places might be. Her jaw dropped. At the age of 15 months, I was taken to visit my great-great aunt, who was dying. The room I described to mother containing the bedstead was her rooom, the sidewalk was the one leading from the church we had attended that morning to her apartment. That was the only time I visited that church or apartment.

[author-by-night.livejournal.com]

Wow - maybe early memories are possible, then! Because I can't imagine why anyone would've told you all that or anything.

[talimeeka.livejournal.com]

My earliest memory was sitting in this little green wagon that my dad used to pull behind his bike. I just remember watching the sand pass and listening to this little pink radio I had sitting in the back with me.

[fiction-goddess.livejournal.com]

Hello *waves*

One of my first memories is when I was about two or three years old. I was in the lounge room of my home and my mother was doing the ironing. She had a collapsable clothes rack with all of the ironed clothes hanging off it (she still uses it) and my head was just high enough to be hidden between the hems of my dad's work pants and my mum's longer skirts.

I also remember standing at the front gate of that house with my hand on the letter box while my sister stood on the stairs crying about wanting to go home. By home she meant the town that we lived in before we moved so I must have only been about two and a half. I remember feeling bad that my sister didn't understand that we weren't going back there; that we had a new home. I think that's when I started trying to look after her. I never really stopped.