Messing Up Memories

(Write about a significant memory prompt.)

My first memory, I think I was about two or three years old. I was standing, doing something, in the hallway of the house I still live in. There was another presence in my space, I think my mom. And that is all I remember of my first memory.

 When I was a young teen I took out the old family albums in my mom’s closet and found a picture of myself when I was about two or three. I carried a smile that stretched as wide as my small baby mouth could. It looked like I was chasing after the person trying to take the picture of me. When my eyes first laid on the old white framed photo, it felt like deja-vu. My brain, without considering the evidence, told me that was a picture of my first memory. It took a few moments for me to realize that it couldn’t be, somethings were off. In the photo I was in the kitchen, not the living room. And my picture had not even been taken at the time. There were other noticeable things that were off, but I cannot remember now.

 Now, I am in my early twenties, and my first memory is actually of building a castle of blocks and being okay with two of the boys in my pre-k class knocking it down.

Lemon Tree