First memory

| Childhood | 2 Comments

Each and every one of us has a very first memory that we can recall. At least I do, and it goes way back to when I was around three years old, I think. This is how I remember it. This is not to claim that the mind of a child is accurate in the mental impressions it saves at any given moment, and definitely not that the very first memory is more valid. Maybe the "real" truth is slightly different, or it is not entirely accurate, or maybe it never ever happened, not really. However, in my mind it is a secure block of timelessness that goes something like this:

"It is in the middle of the night and I have a very sore throat. A really bad sore throat, that is. Also I have the urge to cough, but whenever I do cough, I have this stabbing pain in the back of my throat, hacking sounds emitting outwards. My mother is leading me by the hand to the kitchen where she turns on the light. I cross the boundary between the carpet in the hall and the kitchen floor, a thin metal strip which marks the division betwen the here and the there. I can see the reflection of the light which has been just turned on, in the pitch-black window above the kitchen sink. I cough again and it hurts even more. I look down at my bare feet and I can feel and see the cool linoleum floor which has symmetrical repeating designs. The floor surface is smooth, not slippery and matted slightly. The cupboard door opens and my mother grabs the bottle, unscrews the lid and pours out some of the gooey thick green liquid into a tablespoon. The viscosity of the medicine bulges slightly over the top edge of the concave spoon, but because of the adhesive force of the liquid does not spill over. My mother looks into my eyes with a concerned look bordering on despair, gently places it in my mouth, and the edge of the spoon gently clicks against the inside of my teeth. The liquid is sharp and strong and goes down with a burning warmness that soothes."

That's all I remember, that's exactly the point in my memory where it ends abruptly, like a dream from which you awake all of a sudden. And then I am here forty or so years later where reality has taken on yet another dimension. My mother brought me back to bed and probably tucked me in under the covers with a lovingly kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes and went to sleep, feeling better, dropping away, watching the darkness surround and give me strength. Strength to go on and survive, be something in the world, make my presence known, et cetera. Bringing me eventually to this place I am at now, the place I was going to end up at, the place from which I will continue and leave behind like when I left that same moment of time in the kitchen behind that late night.

2 Comments

Would love to read your blog - but it is impossible. The type is way to small and the background makes it even more difficult..
;-(

I do remember a specific moment which i think is the earliest memory. i was being baptized by two of the richest folk in my city. A big party was happening. My memory is of my mother telling me that the black suit was for the evening and the white for the church. I remember her telling me "you cannot wear neither because it is too early and you will dirty them". I remember her putting my socks on my little feet and loving my wonderfully white fruit of the looms.

I don't know if these things happened one after the other but definitely the same day.

ricky

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This personal weblog was started way back on July 21, 2001 which means that it is 7-21-2001 old.

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Graduated from Stanford 6-5-1979 ago.

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